One Week
by NotRelevant96
Summary: Pam is a PR person at a Scranton Museum, which hosts the annual Scranton Art Festival. Jim works for the Scranton Times and is assigned to do the story on the festival. The story of Jim and Pam retold over the course one week.
1. An Old Fashioned Love Song

I was nervous, chew on the end of your pen, tap your fingers on the counter, pace around the room nervous. I knew there was no rational reason for being nervous because I had been excruciatingly and painstakingly planning this for months, right down to the late minute detail and therefore knew nothing could possibly go wrong. But this was my first year as the head of Public Relations for the Scranton Institute of Art (SIA) and the responsibility of planning the entire annual Scranton Arts Festival, which the SIA had always hosted, rested solely on my shoulders. My job performance was on the line, depending on how smoothly the festival went. But what really had me nervous was the turnout. What would be the point of planning all of this if no one showed up?

The weeklong festival had been a tradition in the community for over thirty years, but recently, the festival had been poorly attended and poorly received due to low funding and mild interest in the community. Last year's festival, which had been held in the gym of a local high school, had been so unsuccessful that SIA had lost money on it. Our director, Jan Levinson, whose job was in jeopardy due to the failings of the previous festivals, wanted to breathe new life into the event. Especially because she had huge plans of adding another wing onto the museum and the only way she could generate enough revenue for a new wing was through private donors who came to occasions like this. So, it was my duty to make sure the festival ran as cleanly as possible and hopefully gaining enough interest so that private donors would want to contribute towards the new wing.

I chose Scranton Central Park as the location of the festival, not only for its natural beauty, but because it was in the center of town, not easily missed. Everything was ready to go. The tents, which would hold artwork done by local artists, were erect and the art was all in place. The pavilion, which would hold many of the events, had been freshly cleaned, ready for the first round of activities set for this morning. I had been up until well after midnight putting the finishing touches on the decorations, stringing up strands of pink and white lights along the paths, and checking the sound system. I would have been tired if I hadn't been so giddy.

Before the festival opened that morning, Jan had called the staff to the pavilion so she could give us a pep talk. Angela Martin and Phyllis Lapin, our curators and responsible for what artwork would be included in the festival, were there, along with Oscar Martinez, the head registrar, Kelly Kapoor, our intern this year, and Ryan Howard, head of the gift shop, all of whom helped me extensively while planning the festival. And then there was Michael Scott, Jan's personal assistant. He wasn't very good at his job and he knew nearly nothing about art, but he has worked for the museum for ages and I was under the impression that Jan kept him around for personal reasons, even if she didn't seem to like him that well.

"Here we are again," Jan began, her voice strained. I could tell the stress was beginning to get to her by her baggy, blood-shot eyes and the excess wrinkles that appeared on her face. Plus, I knew she hated giving these kinds of speeches. She took a drag on her usual morning cigarette before stating again. "It's the beginning of our annual art festival. I want to thank all of you for all the hard work you have put in these last couple of months. But today is just the first day and we still have a lot of hard work ahead of us to make this festival a success. This festival has to do well," she emphasized the last point loudly. "So we all have to pull our weight in making this it the most enjoyable and memorable festival that this community has ever seen. Remember, you represent the museum, so please be on your best behavior," she gave Michael a glare. "Oh and have fun," The last statement merely an after thought.

The staff dispersed, most of us headed to the front gate of the park where the visitors would be entering in a short time. As I walked through the park, I noticed that everything felt very still, very calm, as if waiting in anticipation for all the people to arrive. A cold breeze, unusual for late August, flew through the park, giving me a chill and a shiver went up my spine. There was something different about today, but I couldn't put my finger on what. I almost felt as if this festival would bring about a change in my life, but the thought was so fleeting that I hardly recalled it later.

When I arrived to see the park open to the public, there were plenty of people already lined up at the gate, which made me even more excited and nervous than I had been before. I recognized a few of the people as regulars at the museum, but most were fresh, new faces, eager to enter the park. The wrought-iron gates pulled open, allowing the guests to enter.

The 32nd Annual Scranton Arts Festival had begun.

I stood in a grassy patch next to the entrance sidewalk, watching the people file in, enthusiastically exploring the park, a bit of wonder in their eyes. I was feeling quite pleased with the turn out, when there was a tap on my shoulder. I spun around to face a man I had never met before.

He was handsome, not the traditional ruggedly handsome, but in the sweet boy next door way. He was tall and thin, lanky actually, and wore a light brown suit, which was a little too small for him, and tie. His hair was dark and long enough that it flipped out at the ends. His face was lively, his smile gentle and he had the most beautiful honey-green eyes I had ever seen. I was smitten from first glance and I blushed because rarely had a man made me feel that way at first sight.

"Um," He began, in a low voice. He must have been aware that he had some sort of effect on me because he stuttered over his next few words. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean… Do you work here?" He finally asked.

"Yes," I said as confidently as possible, regaining a little composure.

"Oh, good," he said searching his pockets until he found a small, folded piece of paper. "I am looking for a Mrs.," he scrunched his nose at the paper unsure if he had read it right, "Pamela Anderson?"

Mrs. Anderson. It had been six months since I been Mrs. Anderson, but it still stung to hear it said aloud. "It's Beesly now," I corrected, hoping that I could permanently erase the existence of Mrs. Roy Anderson from my brain. "I'm Pam Beesly."

He stared at me blankly for a moment, "Oh, yeah, I'm Jim Halpert, Scranton Times." He held out his hand for me to shake.

"Ah, a reporter," I commented as I shook his hand. Handsome men seeking me out was not a usual occurrence in my life, so I knew there had to be some catch. "Jan, our director, said someone might be coming out."

"Yeah," he replied, taking out a pen and small pad of paper from his pocket, "I was told to talk with the PR person, who I suspect, is you. So, if you don't mind a few questions…"

"Sure, Mr. Halpert."

"Please, call me Jim," he insisted reacting as badly to Mr. Halpert as I did to Mrs. Anderson.

"Go for it," I said. There was a low rumbling in my stomach, partially from nerves, but also from having nothing but a granola bar for breakfast. "Actually, um, do you mind if we eat while we talk, I'm starving."

"That's fine," he answered, as I began rummaging through my purse for another granola bar. He gazed out at the park, observing its activity. "You know, I'm actually looking forward to being here. This is probably sad, but I've lived in Scranton my whole life and not once have I ever been to the art festival."

I stopped digging around my purse to look up at him in disbelief, "Never?"

"Never."

A tiny smile crept over my lips, "Well, you better remember this moment, Jim Halpert," I advised jokingly, "because your life will never be the same afterwards."

"That good huh?" He laughed.

"That good." I insisted. Instead of a granola bar, I found a small container of yogurt that I had forgot to put in the staff fridge that morning and pulled it out figuring I should eat it now before it went bad. "Mixed-berry," I shot him a cheesy grin and held up the yogurt as if I were doing a commercial. "My favorite, just in case anyone reading the paper needs to know that."

"I'll be sure to jot that down because favorite yogurt flavor is very important," he joked back. "Oh, wait, can I see that for a second?" his tone suddenly changing to concern.

"The yogurt?" The request was very strange, but I handed it over.

"Yeah, we've been getting reports of local grocery stores having to recall dairy products because they've been contaminated with some unhealthy chemicals," he explained as he examined the yogurt container, "Anything that has a date older than…" he pointed to the date on my container. "Yeah, you're not going to want to eat that," he suggested.

"Thanks," I replied, grateful that this complete stranger was looking out for my health. From that moment forward, I knew I was going to like Jim Halpert, though later, when he asked about it, he admitted that he had hoped it was because of a less inane incident. I pitched the yogurt in a nearby trashcan.

"Tell you what, since I made you throw out your breakfast, show me where some food is, and I'll get you something to replace it, then we can eat and talk." He grinned and I took him up on his offer.


	2. The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything

Near the pavilion, there stood a double sized tent where local restaurants set up booths to serve their food. It worked as good advertising for the restaurants and saved the museum from having to hire a caterer, as well as providing me a place to get some breakfast. Jim insisted he buy me something even though I assured him it was no big deal. He persisted until I gave in, letting him buy me a fried egg sandwich and a small coffee. He ordered a coffee as well and when our server placed one cup down on the counter we both reached for it, our hands brushing against each other.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean…" he started.

"Whoops, you can…" I said at the same time.

We both recoiled our hands and laughed uncomfortably. He handed me the cup of coffee, "here, go ahead." My food and the other coffee were ready a moment later.

The Food Tent, which was what the museum staff was calling it, had a dozen of so long tables, each with an assortment of folding chairs so that people could sit down and enjoy their meals. Jim pulled out the closet chair to us and offered me the seat. "We can do the interview here if you like," he said.

"Actually, I can eat and walk if you'd like to take a tour of the park," I said, before taking a sip of coffee. I was a shy person by nature, but being in public relations for the last few years had helped cure me of my fear of meeting new people, especially reporters, though currently I felt that old anxiety creeping back. I figured that it would be easier to walk and talk about the subject I loved most instead of having to be face to face with a man whose attractiveness had caught me so off guard.

"Oh, sure," he replied, a little unsure as he pushed the chair back in.

I led him out of the tent and to the main path, which wound farther into the park. Art from local artists filled each of the many tents in the park, the art separated by various themes. Besides all the art tents, there was the Food Tent, a medical tent, a small section in the corner of the park reserved for venders to sell homemade handiwork and the pavilion, where the assorted events of the festival were going to be held. I explained all of this to Jim as we walked and I finished off my breakfast. He didn't write anything down, only nodded in the right places as he nursed his coffee.

The first tent I took him to was filled with abstract paintings. As Jim began to look over the paintings, I began my rehearsed spiel about the history of the festival and museum that I usually give to reporters, most of whom were usually happy with the generic dribble that I gave them. Jim was different though. He wasn't asking any questions, which was atypical of any reporter I had ever met. I was hard pressed to believe he was even listening because he had become so immersed with the paintings, studying them carefully, as if to uncover some secret meaning behind them.

I continued to chatter on about the festival for a few minutes longer, mostly because I'm a habitual rambler when I'm nervous. "Am I going too fast?" I asked when I became convinced that he hadn't heard anything I said. "I'm not boring you, am I?"

Jim tore himself away from one of the larger canvases. "What? No," he said seeming to snap out of it. "You were talking about the activities the festival was having today. I just- I think this art is fascinating. I mean, I don't think I understand any of it, but it's kind of cool. Like this one," he said as he pointed the painting he had been looking at. The canvas was completely white with the exception of a blood-red number six painted over a large black seven that was positioned in the upper right hand corner. The acrylic paint had dripped half way down the canvas, distorting the numbers a little. "What does this even mean?"

"Actually," I started taking a deep breath in, "this red six is to symbolize the six days that God spent creating the earth and the black seven symbolizes the day off. It's a religious statement about how we do not appreciate God on that seventh day and how our lives, no matter how much we sacrifice, as noted by the red coloring, will be bleak and dreary, hence the black, if we do not find a place for God. It's somewhat of a controversial piece because the Eastern religions have a different, contradicting interpretation of the numbers six and seven, not to mention that the color schemes would be different."

He listened carefully, eyes widening as I continued to explain that the dripping of the paint symbolized the destruction of humanity. He stared back up at the painting as if it would give him an answer to some unknown question in his head. "Wow," he said when I had finished, "all that in this simple painting? So, is the reason the numbers are in the corner reflective of God's position to the rest of us?" he asked, proud that he had come to his own conclusion.

"Could be," I shrugged my shoulders and flashed him a grin. "I just made it all up." He laughed at his own gullibility and for the first time since we met the awkward tension that had been plaguing us seemed to dissipate. "The piece is called 'untitled'," I said referring to the small card beside the canvas. "It could be referring to a card game for all I know. Art can be, and usually is, subjective Jim, you take out of it whatever you want."

Before either of us could continue, I saw someone from my past out of the corner of my eye. I had the tiniest of suspicious that he would show up but hadn't expected it to be so early in the week. I wanted to run, my instinct telling me to get out of there, but he was blocking the tent opening and there was no other way out. With none of the canvases being big enough for me to hide behind, I grabbed Jim's jacket and buried my head against his chest. "Don't let him see me," I said quietly.

Jim, unprepared for my actions, quickly became confused and wasn't sure how to respond, "Who?" he asked, I could sense that he was looking around, but I kept my head low.

"It's my ex-husband," I whispered, "please, just cover me up." The whole thing was a bit childish, I knew that, but Roy and I had parted on less than friendly terms and I had hoped the months without contact would have given him a hint that I did not want to see him.

Jim hesitantly put one arm around my waist, another around my shoulders, careful not to hold on too tight, and dipped his head down over mine as if he were a consoling lover. I grasped his jacket tighter and buried my forehead further into his work shirt. I could hear his heart beating rapidly. "Do you see him?" I asked.

"I don't know what he looks like," Jim answered.

"He's the big guy, short haircut. He's wearing that black and blue spandex suit and looks like he just got back from the gym." I explained. I could only see Jim's white shirt and feared lifting my head up in case Roy should see me.

"Oh, I see him," Jim finally said, his grip on me tightening. One hand reached up to cover my head protectively. "He's looking around," he commentated, shifting me in a semi-circle to stay out of view. I was a bit panicky and I breathed deeply, trying to calm my self down, in the process taking in Jim's scent, which was a refreshingly sweet smell of vanilla. "Alright, he's gone," Jim said, slowly releasing his grip.

I looked up at him, noting the kindness in his eyes. "Thank you," I uttered. Roy was known for his poor confrontations skills and had he saw me, there was no doubt there would be another yelling match, another scene. The day started well and I did not intend to let my past ruin it for me. "I, um, haven't seen him in months," I owed Jim some sort of explanation. "And I really wasn't up to revisiting that."

"Um, no problem," He said, unsure how to properly respond to my actions. I realized I was still clutching his jacket, so I let go, patting his jacket to straighten out the wrinkles. I thought he would ask about Roy, but he didn't. Instead, his eyes shifted to a spot on the ground and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

* * *

When I was with Roy, we lived in a self-absorbed bubble. The effort that it took to maintain such a struggling relationship and marriage preoccupied so much of my free time that there were casualties, namely my friendships. I never had a lot of friends in the first place and the ones I did slowly faded away into their own lives, leaving me secluded in a life consisting only of Roy, work and occasionally family. I had attended art school while with Roy, but the friendships never stuck.

The divorce was liberating on an incredible amount of levels, but I didn't take into account how lonely it would be on my own. My contact with other people had dwindled to work related and calls every week from my mom. The promotion to head of public relations, I was only assistant to the head of PR prior, came not long after Roy and I had separated. The divorce was quick and I delved into my work, submersing myself in it so that the void of not having a relationship would be filled. I loved my work. I loved art. But that didn't stop the nights from feeling empty.

The festival being my first SIA event coordinated on my own, I had little previous contact with the press. Most reporters, all of whom had worked for the local TV stations, I dealt with so far were kind enough, but even the ones that specialized in arts and culture never asked more than their pre-conceived questions and were soon on their way to more interesting stories.

So, Jim, joking, laughing and talking with me, like a normal human being, was a breath of fresh air. The normal professionalism that distanced interviewer with interviewee had been stripped away, leaving two people chatting about art in an informal way. The standard reciting of facts about the festival had been dropped along with my initial intimidating concept of the unapproachable handsome journalist. Jim was very laid-back, which made it so easy to converse with him.

We continued to walk around the park, looking at all the artwork. I had been so busy planning the festival that I hadn't taken much time to see what had been entered. He hadn't asked too much more about the festival itself, so I figured he had enough for his story, though I hadn't seen him write anything down. I didn't press the subject because I was having too much fun goofing around with him and worried that if I mentioned his story had finished that it would put an end to the meeting.

Jim currently had taken the notion of explaining untitled artwork as a game, so he decided to test it out with every untitled piece that we came across. There was an unspoken challenge between the two of us to see who could be the most creative.

"This one looks like somebody's mouth and their teeth have liquefied and are now draining down their throat," I said referring to a drawing that was made up mostly of pencil squiggle marks in the shape of what I thought looked like the profile of a human head. I knew many of these artists personally and respected them, but it felt good just to stand back and evaluate in a less academic manner.

"Hmm…Spontaneous Dental Hydroplosion," He suggested. He was becoming much more animated as the game continued and I was amazed at how quickly he was able to come up with the names.

We moved on to the one beside it, which was also untitled. The canvas was full of small, square, grayish, penciled blobs. "I know," I said thinking fast, "The Killer Nano-Robot Epidemic," I said raising my fists in the air, happy to get one before him.

"Nice," Jim said laughing, "That one was good."

"'Cause I am good," I joked, shrugging my shoulders. He beamed at me and I was happy that I gained a new friend.

* * *

"Oh my god, Pam." We had just exited one of the tents when Jim's eyes grew wide, "it's Dwight."

"Who's Dwight?" I asked curiously.

He pointed to the strange looking man with glasses that was walking up the path towards us. "He's one of my coworkers," Jim explained, "and he's literally the strangest human being I have ever met. He's just so- Well, why don't you meet him and find out for yourself."

"Jim!" a sharp voice called out as Dwight approached us. He had a stern look on his face. "What are you doing here? Are you also here to experience the fine craftsmanship of local art genius Joe Spitoto? Fact, not only are Joe Spitoto's works exquisite in their beauty but they are also the physical representation of the theory of time travel. I have questioned him extensively about his quests through time, but he won't return any of my calls."

Jim grinned and I put my hand to my mouth to stifle a laugh. "I'm here for work, Dwight," Jim responded.

Dwight, disappointed, began to look around wildly, "I don't see Karen here," he observed.

"She's on vacation," Jim answered, "she's been gone all week, how have you not noticed that?"

Dwight only frowned, "well, in that case, I should be going." He turned around and started to walk away.

"Watch this," Jim whispered to me. "Actually, Dwight, I'm undercover," he said as if it were no big deal.

Dwight immediately spun around and came close to Jim, "Undercover? Is this a secret story? Is this part of…what we talked about earlier?"

Jim was momentarily confused, "Oh, no, this is something bigger." He dropped his voice down a little, "something much, much better."

Dwight glanced around to see if anyone was watching, "well, what's the story?"

Jim eyed him suspiciously, playing his part well. "How do I know you aren't going to tell anyone?"

"Jim, we formed an alliance," Dwight stated in disbelief, "don't you remember?"

"Right, right," Jim said, looking around carefully, "ok, the big story is…art thieves."

"Art thieves?"

"Art thieves."

"Dammit Jim, do your really expect me to believe…"

"Shhh," Jim said putting a finger to his lips and pulling Dwight a little closer. "They might be listening. They don't know I've been tipped off."

"Who?" Dwight asked completely captivated.

Jim scrunched his nose, "the art thieves."

"Oh, right, well then," Dwight stopped, noticing me for the first time. "Who are you?" he asked bluntly, his beady eyes zeroing in on me.

I wasn't sure what to say, "I'm Pam Beesly, I work for the museum…"

"Ok, that's nice," Dwight cut me off. "Is she safe Jim?"

I decided to jump in on the fun, "Oh yeah, where do you think he's getting his information from?" I asked, "I mean, I work in PR and what better bridge between the museum and the press is there than public relations?"

Dwight nodded, interested, "alright, continue."

Taking my lead from Jim, I looked around suspiciously, lowered my voice to a whisper and spoke slowly, "Ok, I heard, from my anonymous source, that last night two men were planning on coming here to specifically searching for the works of Joe Spitoto so they could crack the code of time travel."

"Oh my god," Dwight said, his face going white, "if they got their hands on those paintings they could go back in time and destroy the universe in a paradox."

I nodded intently, "Uh-huh."

"What are we going to do?" Dwight asked, pulling at his hair, frustrated.

"No, Dwight," Jim said simply, "what are you going to do? I think this is too far out of my hands. Only you can save the universe."

"Right, right, you're much too inferior anyway," Dwight rubbed his chin and Jim gave him a side-ways glance. "I'll have to go get my spud gun from the car."

"No, no, no, no," Jim said seeming worried that Dwight would do something drastic, "You have to go to the paintings now and guard them. They could be coming any second and who will stop them if no one's there?"

"What are you going to do?"

"Pam and I are going to walk the perimeter, keep our eyes open," Jim assured him.

Dwight seemed satisfied with the answer, "Alright Jim," he nodded very seriously, "then this is goodbye."

"Goodbye, Dwight." Jim said dramatically.

Dwight took off running, veered off the path and hid behind a tree. We could see him poke his head out for a moment, trying desperately to be conspicuous, but failing. He took off, when he thought no one was looking and ran behind another tree.

"Wow," I said, trying to comprehend what had just went down.

"I know, crazy huh," Jim didn't seem like it was anything out of the ordinary. "It's getting too easy. I need a new challenge. Oh, and awesome job coming up with the whole Joe Spitoto and time traveling thing," Jim complimented, holding up his hand so we could high-five, "that was amazing, Pam, really amazing."

"Thanks," I said, glad that he was so impressed. From the distance we could see Dwight attempting to use fighting moves against a squirrel. "Um, he's not going to do anything to the art, is he?" I still had my job to consider.

"Oh, no, he'll be fine," Jim brushed it off. "He'll stand around for an hour or so then find something else to distract him. He'll manage to bug a few people claiming to interrogate them, but I doubt any major damage will be done."

"So, an alliance?" I teased.

"Um, yup," Jim responded slowly.

"Do you guys have a secret fort somewhere, too?"

Jim looked around, pretending not to hear me. "Uh, what's in this tent over here?"


	3. Goodbye Stranger

Jim and I were looking at landscapes when I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Pam, where have you been?" Jan stood behind me with her arms folded across her chest, her lips pursed. "You missed the opening announcement at the pavilion."

"Oh- Jan, I'm sorry," I hated when people were mad at me, especially when it was my boss. Granted, Jan was upset ninety percent of the time, but it didn't make it easier for me to take. She glared, waiting for my response. "I am doing an interview. Jim- Mr. Halpert is from the Scranton Times." I turned to Jim, "Jim, this is my boss, Jan Levinson, director of SIA."

Jim quickly offered his hand to diffuse the situation, "Ms. Levinson, I asked to talk with Ms. Beesly, I didn't intend to take up so much of her time."

Jan shook his hand lightly, but ignored his comment, "A newspaper, Pam? Channel 7 is at the pavilion right now, so if you wouldn't mind wrapping this up and heading over there, that would be great."

"Yes, Jan," I replied obediently.

"Oh, and when you're done, could you please set up one hundred chairs for the talk this afternoon?"

"Um, shouldn't Ryan or Kelly work on that?" I asked, tired of routinely being roped into tasks that weren't in my job description.

"Ryan and Kelly are helping with tonight's banquet to celebrate the opening of the festival," she informed me with a sigh, "apparently, Michael felt it would be funny to insult the head chef and he stormed off in a fit. We're scrambling at the moment, so if you could just take care of this for me…"

"Sure thing Jan," I backtracked, not wanting to add to her pressure.

"Wow," Jim said as she exited the tent, "She seems a little rough around the edges."

"She's just worried about her job," I replied, "Her contract is up this year and…" I stopped abruptly; realizing it probably wasn't my place to divulge private information about my boss to other people, especially a reporter. "She's just got a lot on her mind. And we all want this to go well. The museum is, um, hurting a bit."

"I'm sorry," he said, giving me half a smile, "I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

"No, I shouldn't have…yeah…"

"Yeah," Jim shifted uneasily, looking at his watch. "I probably should get going anyway. My editor, Josh, won't be happy if I'm not back soon."

"I'm glad you came out," I spit out quickly, feeling the strange unease stirring again, "I mean, to do the story. Actually, I had a lot of fun today, but you know, it's always great to get the publicity, no matter what Jan says. Yeah."

Jim smiled, "Yeah, I had a lot of fun too. Anyone willing to play a prank on Dwight is worth knowing."

"Yeah, Dwight, wow, he's right up there with Jan's assistant Michael when it comes to coworkers."

"I wonder what he did to set off that chef," Jim pondered.

"Oh, it could have been anything," I said, "This one time, we had some inner city students come in for a tour and Michael felt it appropriate to do a Chris Rock routine for them."

"Oh man."

"Yeah, the school said they weren't coming back to our museum," I said, remembering what a disaster that had been.

"Wow," he replied.

"Yeah, um, you know, you should totally come out tomorrow," I offered, changing the subject. I wanted to see him again and having the mask of the festival to hide behind made it easier for me to muster the courage to ask. "We, um, are having this really great breakfast buffet tomorrow for everyone who shows up early. It's being catered by the Waffle Shack, so it's supposed to be pretty good."

"I'd love to," Jim said, a little reservation in his voice, "But I can't come out tomorrow morning. A couple of guys and I play pick-up basketball in the morning and I have this huge meeting at work and…"

"Oh, that's a shame," I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

"Yeah," Jim said, "well, maybe I'll skip the basketball thing, I mean it's just a couple of friends from college. We only play once a month or so, but I mean it's no big deal."

"Well, if it's important to you," I used to twist my wedding ring when I nervous, but I didn't have it any more so instead I played with the cuff of my sleeve, "I mean, the art festival is going on all week and you can come out whenever."

"Yeah, I can… Actually, if you have a little time tomorrow, why don't you come down and check it out," He said, "We play in the park over on 7th and Main. I was a pretty good player in high school and I'd still like to think that I've got it. So, if you want to come out and see a great pick-up game of basketball…"

I smiled, "Oh, so you think you're good or something?" Why was it that joking around seemed so natural and yet I couldn't admit, out loud, that I wanted to see him again.

"Well, you're never going to know unless you come," he said.

"I don't know, I think that I'm going to be too busy eating the greatest waffles ever made," I teased.

"No, I think you're going to be watching me kick some crappy guys' asses on the court."

I laughed, "Really, I'd take you up on your offer, but I do have to be here tomorrow morning. But, yeah, if you have some free time please, come back. Check out local art. Have a good time."

"Yeah, I think I will," He said, "Though, I do really have to get going."

I agree, "Yeah, Jan will have my head if I don't get over there soon. So, um, if you don't mind, let me stop in the bathroom for a second and I'll walk you out to the parking lot. Are you sure you don't waffles?" I tried again.

"Only if you're going to come out and watch me," Jim retorted again. I knew that I couldn't, even though part of me really wanted, so I hoped that he would make the effort to come back tomorrow.

"I guess you have what you need, then," I said, growing more serious.

Jim looked deep in thought, "Actually, how would you feel if we did a feature story on the festival? I think that it'll be in the museum's best interests when, honestly, all that's going to be in tomorrow's paper is a small blurb."

"That would be really awesome," I said thinking of the publicity, "Thanks Jim."

"No problem. I just have to talk to my boss about it."

* * *

I studied my reflection in the bathroom mirror, my hands clutched tightly on the sides of the sink. Normally, I felt I looked fine, never bothering to spend much time getting ready for work, but today I felt plain. I was wearing my usual button down pink striped blouse, cream colored cardigan, and dark skirt, the same thing I wore pretty much every day, but when I looked at myself now, I felt as if I were dressed as someone's grandmother in a play and wondered how I got to the point where I didn't care any more.

I played with my hair a bit. It becomes frizzy easily and a long time ago, I found a simple solution in pinning it back with a barrette. Roy had also liked it when it was up so it became habit. I took the barrette out for a moment and let my hair swirl around my face. It was unkempt, but I liked how it fell around my cheeks and over my shoulders. I toyed with leaving it down, but I would have to brush it out and I left my brush in the car, so I used the barrette to push it back up.

After my hair was up, I concentrated on my face. I stopped bothering with make-up a while ago and was never big on it in the first place, but as I stared at my own face, washed out because of the green florescent lighting in the bathroom, I felt that I needed something. I dug in my purse and found a tube of lip-gloss that had probably been buried for ages. I pulled out the top, the gloss sticking to the end of it and applied a little. It was a very light pink and barely noticeable, but I thought it added some sparkle to my lips. I smiled, satisfied.

I took a step back realizing that this scenario felt rather familiar.

"You like him, don't you, Pam?" My friend Marcie had asked at lunch one day back in high school. I had blushed a little, not knowing how long I had been staring at the popular kid's table where all the jocks were sitting. Although I stuck to my solid colored turtlenecks, I had recently begun doing my hair and using make-up, which didn't go unnoticed by the few girls that I normally sat with. I usually ignored their constant teasing over my crush on the hotshot quarterback, burying myself into whatever drawing I was working on, but I had a hard time ignoring the voices in my head.

I shook my head attempting to rid it of those old memories. I was twenty-nine not seventeen and this was probably just a little crush on the first guy that had given me any attention since I had gotten a divorce. There was no need to push it, especially since just making a new friend was nice.

Friendship, I felt, was a real thing, a true thing, something that I don't believe Roy and I ever had. My previous relationship was built on youthful attraction and tenacious loyalty. I didn't know how to flirt or date or how to even tell if Jim was interested, but I did know that I feared screwing up the newfound friendship we had started and that quashed any romantic feelings from my mind. Besides, friendship was the safe road, one that wouldn't hurt, and one that I was committed to when I walked out of the bathroom.

Jim had waited for me like he said he would, but he was no longer alone. A beautiful woman stood next to him talking, no, laughing with him. She had shiny red hair that curled a lot nicer than mine and flowed down her shoulders gracefully. Her clothing, a simple purple sweater and black skirt didn't look old fashioned and in fact hugged her nicely in the right places. Her skin was creamy and flawless, her make-up perfect. I touched a hand to my lips, realizing how hokey simple lip-gloss now seemed.

I came up to them, feeling a little self-conscious, like I did when I was younger and approaching the 'cool' girl in school. I shook my head, again, to get rid of the old insecurities.

"Hey Pam," Jim said cheerfully, "This is Katy. We went to college together and, yeah, just bumped into each other."

Katy shook my hand. I got a warm and kind vibe from her, which gave me an unfamiliar queasy feeling in my stomach. "Hey Pam," she said with a smile, her voice a bit too sweet, "Jim says you're the PR person. That's awesome. I'm actually here selling purses at the festival." She held up a small, black, sparkly bag, "my mom makes them and I told her I'd help her out this week. And yeah, I saw Jim standing here and it's been so long. Not since…"

"Billy Johnson's birthday party, what, three years ago?" Jim recollected affectionately. There was an easy familiarity between them that I couldn't help but notice.

"Yeah, it's been a while," Katy said reflectively, "Hey, do you want to go out and get some coffee later tonight or something?" she asked. She was fond of him, I could tell and I really felt like the third wheel.

"Um, sure," Jim responded, faltering slightly, "We can do something after I get out of work."

"Great," she replied, "I'm done for the day, are you guys done here? I can walk with you back to your car."

"Yeah, I should get back to work," I said taking the opportunity to exit the conversation, not really wanting to witness any more of their reunion. "Jan will have my head if I don't get those chairs soon."

"Oh," Jim said, frowning a bit. "Well, alright," he shifted uneasily, "I had a great time with you this morning, Pam." He said kindly.

"Yeah, it was fun, Jim," I replied. We stood for a second, not knowing what to do. I held out a hand and we shook, though there was a strange, awkward sensation about it.

"Hey Pam," Jim said, right as he was about to leave with Katy, a grin climbed over his lips, "You know, my offer still stands about tomorrow."

I gave him a meek smile in return, "I'm gonna be eating waffles," I tried to joke, but my voice wavered and it didn't come off that well.

We stared at each other, a silent wall of unspoken words between us. Then he broke away so he could head to his car, Katy at his side. She immediately began chatting happily as they walked, but he kept his head to the ground. I watched them for a moment before deciding I had work to do and it would get my mind off the handsome journalist and the nagging voices in my head. I took a breath and headed to the storage facility that housed enough chairs for one hundred people, reminding myself that the Spitoto exhibit should be checked just in case.

(End of Day 1, tbc…)


	4. She's So Lovely

Day Two: Jim's POV

I was nervous, twiddle your thumbs, drum your fingers on the counter, watch the clock nervous. My boss, Josh Porter, had yet to arrive to work and my anxiety rose with every passing minute. Yesterday afternoon, after I got back, Josh had been out so I didn't have the chance to ask him about doing a feature story on the festival. I picked up the paper this morning to see my small blurb on the festival squished between ads for hair care and an article about a dog that communicates with cats. Apparently, the festival didn't register high on noteworthy news items, which meant my pitch had to be stellar. But really I was doing this for her, which is why I was so nervous about asking.

I had watched for Pam this morning during the basketball game. I knew in my gut she wouldn't show, but I couldn't help but hope there was a small chance that she'd come. I had been so distracted, watching every time a woman passed by on the street, that I could barely play and my team ended up losing badly. Then the usual morning staff meeting had been canceled due to Josh's absence, making me really wish that I had skipped the basketball game to enjoy some waffles. She had been in my head since yesterday and even though I could easily just go the festival after work, I sincerely felt the festival should get the coverage it deserved making it was the perfect opportunity to see her again.

"Morning Jim," Josh said, looking haggard as he arrived at the office, briefcase in one hand and coffee mug in the other. He set the brief case down for a moment so he could unlock his office door.

I immediately pulled myself away from the wall I had been leaning against to follow him into his office. "Morning Josh," I said closing the office door behind me. "Do you mind if I talk with you for a moment?"

"Sure," he said, sitting at his desk, opening his briefcase and taking out a stack of papers. "Sorry I missed the meeting this morning, the car is giving me trouble again. Nancy nearly got in an accident driving the kids to soccer practice this morning. I really need to trade that thing in." He closed the briefcase and placed it under his desk, "Oh and thank you for covering that art festival story for me. Saved me from having to go out there myself. So, what can I do for you?"

"It's about the art festival," I replied slowly. "I think we should do a feature story on it."

Josh leaned back in his chair, "Why?"

I took a deep breath in, "Well, you know, I was there yesterday and there is so much going on that I feel like it's worth doing a full story. I mean, you know me, I know nothing about art, but I really learned a lot yesterday and I think there is something beneficial for everyone and plenty to see and do. Besides Pam- Miss Beesly- the woman I talked to yesterday said they could use the publicity. They're trying to build a new wing to the museum and the revenue they generate from the festival helps go towards that."

"You've taken quite the interest in this," Josh observed.

I shrugged, trying to play cool, "I just don't the think the publicity would hurt."

Josh thought it over for a moment, "Well, Karen gets back tonight, so she can go out tomorrow and cover it."

"No," I said quick enough to make Josh raise his eyebrows, "I mean, I was hoping I could take the story. I was out there yesterday, I've already talked with them and I thought I should finish covering it."

"It's great hear that you have a newly aroused interest in art, Jim, but I don't think I have any room in tomorrow's paper," Josh explained. "We'd have to wait until the next day anyway.

"Right, but if the story is done now, you don't have to worry about later," I argued, "Besides, why throw Karen into something new when I've already got it covered."

I could tell he was debating the idea in his head. "If I give this to you, who's going to cover the game tonight?" he asked.

For the first time in recollection, I had forgotten about a game I was supposed to cover. "Um, I think I can get Stanley to cover it. I don't think he's on anything tonight," I responded, thinking quickly. This was probably the first time I had ever wanted to skip a game I was covering as well.

"Alright," Josh said, though he seemed unsure, "You get Stanley to cover the game and I'll let you go out to the festival. But Jim, it better be a pretty damn good story."

"It will be," I said, flashing him a grin.

Stanley proved to be a harder sell than I thought he would. "No," he replied simply after I explained the situation. He proceeded to chew on a large, doughy, covered in processed cheese, pretzel and did not look up from his crossword.

"Come on Stanley," I insisted, "It's baseball. You love baseball."

"I do not love baseball," He said in his usual slow drone, not even looking up at me, "You love baseball. I love my wife and it's our anniversary tonight, so if you think that I am going to give up my tickets to the opera tonight so you can chase some supposed hot story, you have another thing coming."

"You can appreciate art and culture, Stanley," I pleaded, "Don't you think we should do a features story on the festival?"

"I can appreciate it much more tomorrow when Karen comes back and does it," Stanley retorted, "That way no one will have to bother me about trivial things."

I sighed, "Look, what time is your play? Seven? Eight? The game starts at two, so that should give you plenty of time to go out this evening."

"No."

"I'll take any story off your hands that you don't want for a month."

"No."

"I'll buy you a pretzel everyday for a year."

Stanley glared up at me, but just when I thought he was going to yell he surprised me. "Fine," he grumbled, "But if I'm late for my anniversary dinner, I will have your head on a platter."

A week later, I ended up buying Stanley a whole bunch of pretzels and put them in a gift basket.

The rest of the morning went slow, as I finished all the minor jobs that needed tending to before I went out to the festival. It didn't help that Dwight insisted grilling me for a half hour about the so-called art thieves that never showed up. (Apparently, he sat outside the tent for two hours before giving up.) I left the office in the early afternoon, stopping for a small bite to eat, but I was so anxious that I didn't have much.

When I got to Scranton Park, I was sweating so heavily that I left my coat in the car, rolled up my sleeves and loosened my tie. I didn't think anyone would mind if I looked a smidgen less than professional for one day. I ran one hand through my hair in an attempt to comb it, but I learned a long time ago that no matter how hard I tried, my hair was never going to stay in place.

I walked entirely around the park once without finding her. I saw her boss, Jan Levinson, but she was yelling at some dark haired man and I thought it best not to approach. I worried that Pam might have left, so I began checking all of the individual tents just in case I missed her the first time around. When I got to the Food Tent, I found her, sitting with her back to me, picking at a salad and chatting with a dark-skinned woman about the same age. I stood in the opening of the tent taking a moment to watch her.

I didn't know how it was possible, but she was even more breathtaking than she had been yesterday. She wore nearly the same thing as she did yesterday, her blouse being blue instead of pink, but the light filtering through the opening of the tent surrounded her, made her glow. She was beautiful. Everything about her was beautiful, the way her tiny hand tucked her hair behind her ear, the way she smiled when she talked, they way she held herself, confident, yet still feminine. The revelation was so blindsiding that it took a moment to muster enough courage to approach her.

I walked to the table slowly, not wanting to disrupt her. Pam and the other woman were so engrossed in their conversation, though, that neither noticed me come around and pull out a chair. The other woman rattled on about clothes, Pam nodding as she spoke. Normally, I would have waited for a break in the conversation to speak, but the other woman didn't even pause to take a breath, so I let out a simple, "Hey."

"Oh my god," she said dropping her fork in the plastic salad container a look of pure shock on her face. After taking a moment to register that I was there, her lips turned to a surprised smile, "I didn't think you were going to show up."

"Really?" I asked, happy to note that she looked glad I was there. "I said I would," I reminded her, giving her a grin. Our eyes locked and for a second, we were completely connected.

"Hello! Pam!" the other woman's sharp voice broke us out of our trance. "Are you going to tell me who this guy is or are you going to remain looking googly-eyed and dopey?"

I smiled when I saw Pam blush. "Um, Kelly," Pam said, picking up her fork and playing with the remaining bits of lettuce left in the container, "This is Jim Halpert. He's the reporter from the Scranton Times that came yesterday. Jim this is Kelly." Her eyes never left the salad.

"Oh my god, a reporter," Kelly squealed, "Are we all getting interviewed and stuff? Can I get my name in the paper? I am so much more interesting than Pam, uh, no offense Pam."

Pam gave her half a smile, "I don't even know if Jim's here for work."

"Actually, I am," I informed them, "The boss gave it an ok. I get to do a full feature on the art festival."

Pam's eyes grew wide, excitedly, "That's great. I-"

"That's so awesome," Kelly cut her off, intrigued by the prospect of getting media attention, "I mean those TV guys yesterday were total losers. They didn't ask me one question about what I was wearing and I was totally looking hot in that sun dress I bought over the weekend."

Kelly continued to chatter about her clothes when I noticed a guy my age with dark hair and bright blue eyes approach the table. "Hey, Kel," he said, also not caring that Kelly was mid-sentence. "Jan wants you to help the theater group."

"What?" Kelly said sharply, turning in her chair to give him a glare, "Ryan, Jan told you an hour ago to help them set-up."

"No, she said specifically 'Kelly, help the theater group set-up when they get here'," Ryan shot back. Some how the conversation turned directly into an argument. "I was standing right there when she told you. Don't get on my case every time Jan tells you to do something."

"Oh, whatever, Ryan," Kelly sneered, "You know Jan told you to do it. You're just being lazy and want someone to do your dirty work for you. Well, I am not going to do it for you this time, mister."

"Yeah, you're being really mature," Ryan shot back. "Do you have any idea how babyish you are sounding right now? Who's being lazy, now? It's not me, because I am here doing what I'm told. Getting you to help the theater group. Just because you have anger issues with Jan doesn't mean you should take them out on me." They began bickering in unintelligible nonsense.

"Why don't you both go do it?" Pam interjected. Kelly and Ryan stopped arguing to stare blankly at her.

"Come on, Kelly, let's go," Ryan said rolling his eyes. Kelly jumped up from the table, continuing to argue with him as they left the tent.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," Pam said, slurping the last of her drink.

"Are they always like that?" I asked.

"Pretty much," Pam admitted, "It's gotten worse sense they started dating. Or at least, that's what I think they're doing. I don't know who they drive crazier, each other or everyone else."

"Yeah, that's nuts," I commented.

"So, you get to do a whole story on us," Pam said, sounding impressed. "That really is good news for the museum. Our numbers are up from yesterday, but they're still not at the mark that Jan wants."

"Yeah, my boss was a little skeptical about the idea," I admitted. "But, you know, I talked him into to it."

Pam let out a little laugh and gave me a toothy, bright grin. Forget the feature story, I thought. I wanted to spend the rest of the day making her smile like that.

"Alright, where do you want to start?" She asked.

I pulled a tape recorder out of my pants pocket and placed it on the table between us. "Um, we covered most of the basics yesterday. Why don't you tell me a little more about yourself. I mean, yesterday we didn't get into that too much." I thought I probably shouldn't be using my job as a way to get to know her, but I couldn't help myself.

She looked a little reserved over the question, "I don't know, there isn't much to say."

"I promise it will be off record," I said, demonstrating that the tape recorder was off. "We don't really know each other, I thought it might be nice to…know you."

"My life really isn't that interesting," she assured me.

"I promise, it can't be any more boring than mine," I replied, laughing a little.

She took another sip of her drink before responding. "Well, I grew up in Carbondale. I went to college for a couple of years and studied art but that didn't last long because I became engaged to my high school boyfriend and I had to get a job. I actually began working the museum as a gift shop clerk so we could have extra money to save for the wedding, so that's how I became associated with SIA. Anyway, Roy and I, we were engaged for a long time. A long time. Seriously, Jim, if there were an award for longest engagement we would have won that." She sat back in her chair to recollect, "Thinking about it now, the engagement lasted longer than the marriage. Yeah, but that's…behind me now. Um, so I went back to school and got an art degree. I really love to do illustrations, but I don't think I'll ever get to a professional level. And, oh, there was an opening for an assistant to the PR person so I applied and got it. A couple of months ago, Marjorie, the old PR person retired so I got the job. And now I'm here talking to you, probably giving you way more information than you ever need." She laughed uncomfortably, but I found her openness was compelling.

"Yeah, I don't think my story is that interesting," I said, thinking that she had gone through more in life than I had.

"Oh come on, you have to. I just told you my life story," she insisted. "You can't hold out on me now."

"Alright, but I hope you're not disappointed by what you hear," I joked, though there was grain of truth to my words. "I grew up in Scranton. Lived in Scranton pretty much my whole life. The only time I didn't was when I lived in Philadelphia to go to college. Went to school for journalism. Got a job here at the Scranton Times and that's about it. See, I told you it was kinda boring."

"You didn't want to stay in Philly?" She asked, trying to understand my motivation for staying.

"Well, I got the internship here and my family was here, at the time anyway," I answered trailing off. It wasn't a strong answer, but I didn't have anything better to give her.

"Oh," she nodded, though I don't think the explanation was satisfactory enough for her. But instead of continuing, she stood and I took the hint that personal history story hour was over. "Well, we should get started."

I stood, following her lead, "Sure, um, we can do interviews or chat more about the details of the festival. Whatever you'd like to do."

"We can walk around a little," she suggested. She began to clean up her mess at the table. "Yeah, I took the bus today and forgot to pack my lunch," she informed me as she gathered her waste. I tried to help, but when I reached for her cup, she snatched it away from me. "No, don't throw that away yet," she said.

I shook it, hearing only the ice rattle around in it, "It's empty," I said.

"I know, but um, this is going to sound stupid, but I let the ice melt," she explained. "So, it's like having another drink right there."

"A second drink?" I was amused because it sounded like something my college roommates and I would come up with while drunk at two in the morning.

"I don't know it's just this weird thing," She said, a little embarrassed.

"It's quirky," I assured her, making her smile. It made me want to know what other quirks she had.

She stared at me for a moment, looking as though she were trying to come up with a specific thought, "Um, can I ask you about something?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, interested in what she wanted to know.

She waited a moment, contemplating on whatever her question was then at the last second changed her mind. "Um, thank you. For coming out here and doing the story. It's great for the museum." It wasn't what she was going to say, but her words were sincere.

"Not really a question," I commented, hoping that she would still ask whatever it was on her mind. She never did.


	5. Bang the Drum All Day

My idea was to gather as much information as possible to form a well-rounded article featuring all aspects of the festival. I explained to Pam that I could interview quite a few people, local artists, community members, employees of the museum, then sit in on the activities, write a short review, and give preview of what the festival had to offer. Pam liked my idea and we set out to do some interviews before the local theater group, The Scranton Players, performed their skits at the pavilion.

Lucky, or maybe not, for us, we ran into Jan and the man she was arguing with earlier as we were headed out of the Food Tent.

"Wow," Jan said elongating her vowels. "You're back today. We must have had some effect on you." I couldn't tell if she was happy to have me back or not. She remained very tense.

"The Scranton Times is doing a feature story on the festival," Pam explained.

"Interesting," Jan responded, looking at me strangely as if surprised that I would be doing the story.

"Oh, the newspaper," the man said. "What a great way to tell everyone about the festival. Where's the camera guy? You have to get a shot of me and Jan. Or maybe just me. People have told me I have a very filmable face." He nodded and shook his head to demonstrate.

"Jim," Pam said, "This is Michael Scott, Jan's assistant. He does Chris Rock impressions."

"Oh, thank you, Pam," Michael said, as if he complimented her. "Yes, they are wonderful impersonations. Universally well known. Well, universally known around Scranton. Would you like to hear one?"

"Michael, stop," Jan cut him off just as he started to reenact one. "Pam, the theater group is here, so can you please help them set up."

Pam had a worried look on her face, "Ryan came to get Kelly to help with that a few minutes ago."

"Well, they weren't at the pavilion when I walked by it," Jan said.

Pam groaned, "Oh no."

"They're probably doing it," Michael said bluntly. Pam, Jan, and I stared at him, each of us with equal looks of disgust on our faces. Michael thought we didn't know what he meant, so he elaborated. "You know, making sex. Having sex. They're doing the nas-tay."

Jan clenched her fists in anger, "Michael, please." Michael giggled, obviously a graphic image in his head. "Pam, find Ryan and Kelly and get over there."

"Alright Jan," She said. She turned towards me, "Um, why don't you get a statement from Jan and meet me over at the pavilion, ok?"

"Sure," I said. She took off, leaving me with a still chuckling Michael and an irate Jan. "So, would you like to give me a quote or…"

Jan began speaking before I could get the tape recorder ready.

"Yes, this festival has been put together by the finest employees our museum has," she talked as if she were reciting lines from a play, using a higher, falsely friendly voice. "The museum has been a wonderful addition to the community for the entire time that it has been here and I hope that people who enjoy coming to our museum, enjoy art, or just want to get out of the house for a while will stop on by. We are currently trying to raise money for a new wing on the museum and the festival helps us reach that goal. Art enriches our lives and our souls. I hope to see everyone here." She frowned when she was done.

Michael had been watching interestedly and when Jan had finished her quote Michael jumped to my side, eyeing the tape recorder. "You know I was on TV once," he informed me.

"When was that?" I asked. I had no idea why Michael felt it relevant to tell me such information, but he was amusing if nothing else, so I let him continue, much to Jan's chagrin.

"When I was a kid, there was this show called 'Fundle Bundle'…"

"Michael," Jan scolded him as if he were a child, "I'm pretty sure that Mr. Halpert has plenty of interviews to get to."

"I can still take a quote from you if you want, Michael," I said, although Jan glared at the suggestion so I wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do.

"Yes, I have a quote for you." Michael stated, smiling grandly. He began to talk even before I was able to turn back on the tape recorder, "My fellow Scrantonites. I suggest, no, demand that you all come to the annual Scranton art festival. It is the best art festival that you will ever attend in your entire lives. If you do not come, I will go to each of your houses individually and make you, because it is your duty as citizen to come to this art festival. This is not a threat, but you have one day."

"Oh, Michael," Jan groaned, rubbing her head.

Michael continued excitedly, "If you don't want to come for the art you should at least hear my comedy routine. I am an excellent comedian. Did you ever hear the one about the guy that goes to the cheap prostitute?" Jan whacked him on the arm. "Oh," He whined, grabbing his arm. "You didn't have to hurt me."

"Enough," Jan silenced him and he looked at her with hurt eyes, "Come on we have work to do." I heard her mumble, "I need a cigarette," as she walked away. Michael tailed her, babbling continuously about becoming famous after being interviewed by one newspaper.

I made my way over to the pavilion, thinking that if all the interviews turned out as strange as Michael and Jan's it might not be publishable, but it would be very entertaining. I found Michael mildly bearable, but I could see why Pam (and Jan) would be so easily annoyed. I suppose I would be too if I worked with him every day, though, I did work with Dwight, so I felt my tolerance for people was much higher than most.

My train of thought stopped when I saw Pam pacing next to the pavilion. She was talking into a cell phone, a serious, worried expression on her face. My first instinct was to find out what was wrong and comfort her. I really didn't want anything to be wrong, but it conflicted with my desire to have her in my arms. The memory of yesterday's encounter with her ex floated to my mind and I felt a longing ache to hold like that again. I shook my head. I was at work; I should be of thinking professional things.

Pam noticed me standing in the distance and waved me closer, which I did. She listened intently to the party on the other line, nodding along, occasionally inserting the appropriate response. I heard a female voice, but it was too soft to pick up what she was saying.

"Well, mom, why don't you just talk to him about it," Pam said, rolling her eyes at me as if to apologize for keeping me waiting. "I mean, I don't think dad knows…" Her voice cut off as the voice on the other line picked up again. "Alright, mom, we'll have to discuss it later," she interjected. The subject seemed to change as Pam's face grew relaxed, "Yeah, yeah, that's not today, that's tomorrow. I'll let you know about that, but I really don't think I'm going to win, there's a lot of great artwork in the show."

I wondered if she was talking about her own artwork and if so, how I could get her to show it to me.

"Mom, I have to go, there's a reporter waiting for me," she said hurriedly, though I didn't mind waiting. I motioned to her that it was alright if she continued to talk. "Yes the same one from yesterday," she said slightly flustered. "Mom, I'm not going to-" She began to blush a little and turned away from me, lowering her voice. "He's standing right here, ok. I've got to go."

A smile crept up across my face as I thought about the possible conversations she and her mom had about me last night. I had to imagine she said good things if her mom inquired about it again.

She had said goodbye to her mom, then shut her phone and folded her arms across her chest. "I'm sorry about that," she said as if it were a big deal. "My mom. I mean I love my mom, but she likes to chat sometimes and-" She let the sentence die. "How the interview go with Jan and Michael?"

I let out a laugh, "Well, uh, probably how you would expect it to go. Michael started the interview by threatening everyone if they didn't come and ended in an inappropriate sexual joke."

All the seriousness from the conversation with her mother melted away and she broke into a grin, "Yeah, some how I'm not surprised about that. I have to warn you right now, we're all a little crazy like that. So, are you up for the challenge?"

"Oh yeah," I assured her. "I plan on doing this all day long. I mean, I want the readers to be left satisfied and smiling."

* * *

Pam and I grabbed a couple of seats near the back of the pavilion just before the skits were to start. While we waited, Pam explained to me that the Scranton Players had composed original pieces for the festival and that they had worked for a couple of months to put it together. There was a small fee to watch the skits, the proceeds going towards the museum. Pam told me that I didn't need to pay because I was press, I but I gave the few dollars anyway to show my support.

The theater troupe was composed of mostly teenagers and college students, with a few adults there to supervise. They have been a community organization for over thirty years, putting on plays and skits for the community on a regular basis. My sister had been apart of The Scranton Players back in high school and I had seen a few of their productions, but I hadn't been to a performance since then.

There were five skits all together. The first one was about a male virgin who tried desperately to impress his friends. I thought it was a rather adult subject for a bunch of kids to be putting on, but it got the most laughs of the afternoon. The second one was about a washed up drummer attempting to play in a teenage rock band. I doubted I would ever be able to wash the horrifying image of the middle-aged, beer-bellied actor dancing around in his underwear out of my brain. The third one was about rival ice skaters joining together to win a gold medal. I could have sworn I saw Will Ferrell do something like this once. The fourth one was about an engaged couple taking counseling from their minister.

"Oh my god," Pam said as the fourth one ended. She thrust her forehead into my arm, "I officially died of boredom from that last one."

"It wasn't that bad," I said concentrating more on her head on my arm than on a critique of the skit. "Sure it was a little cheesy, especially at the end, but-"

"What priest has a ten-year-old following them around?"

"Ok, so that was a little weird."

"What's the last one?" She asked, leaning over to look at the program I had in my hands. "Flonkerton: The story of an Icelandic Paper Company," she read aloud. "I wonder what Flonkerton means."

"Oh, that means boxes of paper in Icelandic," I came up with quickly.

"Really?"

"I have no idea," I admitted with a smile. She playfully punched me in the arm. "Hey, it could, you don't know."

I had to admit, I was a little skeptical about how interesting a story about an office would be, but it was by far the best skit that was presented that afternoon. The humor was sharp and the characters were intriguing, though if I had one complaint, it was how the skit ended.

"Um, so that was a bit dark," I observed, turning to Pam to see her reaction.

Pam looked like she agreed, "Yeah, I mean that manager guy, what a jerk. I don't think it's funny to fake fire someone, even as a prank. He was too mean spirited. And his sidekick was a jerk too."

It was cute how annoyed she looked, but the characterization of the manager wasn't what I was referring to. "No, I mean the ending. This guy is in love with the girl forever and she obviously feels the same way, but when he tells her, he gets rejected. And that's it. What kind of ending is that?"

She squirmed a little in her seat. "I thought it was realistic," she said slowly.

"What?" I asked surprised to hear her answer that way.

"Yeah, I think I actually got that." She said continued, "I mean the guy was asking to change her whole life around in a matter of seconds. It can be really scary to do that, I actually felt for her."

"Ok," I said, thinking about it. "But I still say she should have stopped him from walking away. She could have at least told him she needed time."

Pam looked uncomfortable, "He didn't give her time to say that. And sometimes it can be really scary to make a decision like that so quickly. I mean, I can't fault her for being human."

"She should have told him she loved him or at least felt something, because obviously she did," I said resigned. "What he did took a lot of courage."

She scrunched her nose, "Yeah, I know, but I don't think life is black and white, Jim." She gave me a lopsided smile.

"I don't know," I said taking a deep breath. "Sometimes I think it is, only we have a tendency to complicate it because it seems too simple."

* * *

"Alright, you're stuck on a desert island and you can only have five movies. What would the be?" I asked. It had been twenty minutes since the skits had ended and we were still sitting on the chairs chatting while the community theater group picked up around us so that the basket weavers could take their place. We hadn't mentioned art or the festival once and I had no desire to point that out to her.

"What?" Pam asked, "How is this even relevant to your interview?

"It just is," I replied. "I mean, do you realize how much your favorite movies say about you?"

"Yeah, I'm sure you ask your interviewees this all the time," she challenged.

"Quit stalling."

She sat back and thought about it for a moment, "Alright…'Legally Blonde'."

"Seriously, Beesly?" I responded in mocking disbelief, "You're going to spend all of eternity with 'Legally Blonde'?"

"It's a good movie," she protested.

"Yeah, sure," I agreed sarcastically, "if you're island is full of teeny-boppers on a Saturday night."

"Fine…fine," she laughed, "I take it back."

"I mean, the people really want to know who the real Pam Beesly is, so let's not short change them with fluff."

"I think you're taking your job way too seriously," Pam responded.

"Well, yeah," I commented, "I mean, if I didn't, tomorrow's headline will read: 'Museum PR Girl Gets Inspiration from Blonde Airhead'. And the people just won't take you seriously any more."

"That headline is way too long. How long did you say you worked at the paper?" She joked. I rolled my eyes, but smiled. "Alright, hmmm…'Fargo', 'Edward Scissor Hands', 'Dazed and Confused', 'The Breakfast Club', 'The Princess Bride', and…"

"Nope," I interrupted, chuckling at her miscalculation, "That's your five."

"Wait, no," She protested, "I haven't told you my all time favorite."

"I'm going to have to change the headline…"

"I have to add my all-time favorite."

"'Museum PR Girl Gets Inspiration from Blonde Airhead': Doesn't know how to count to five."

"Suck it, Halpert."

I raised my eyebrows, "Can I quote you on that?"

"Hey Jim, I didn't know you were going to be here." It was Katy, looking as chipper as she had been yesterday. The humor quickly left the situation.

"Yeah, I'm, uh, doing an article on the festival," I said, wishing that she hadn't interrupted.

"Wasn't that what you were doing yesterday?" She asked, pulling up a chair to sit next to Pam. Pam sat on the edge of her seat looking ready to take off first chance she got.

"Um, yup," I replied, trying to come up with a way to get out of this but nothing was coming to mind. "I'm just doing a big article."

"Oh, that's so cool, you never mentioned that yesterday," she said. "You know, you should come check out my purse table. I can give you my own personal interview."

"Uh, well…"I stammered.

"You know that's not a bad idea," Pam interjected. I looked at her a bit in awe. "Because I have things I should be doing and you guys should- I mean, Jim, you can get interviews with people who are selling other things and yeah." I could tell Pam's tone was forced.

"Why don't you come with us Pam," I suggested.

Pam stood up, "No, I have things-"

"Come on, she's got things to do," Katy said, literally pulling me by the arm. I gave Pam an apologetic look, but she said nothing as Katy dragged me off the pavilion.

I liked Katy alright, I did. She was sweet and kind, but had almost no personality or depth and taking her out to coffee last night had been as dull as the few times I went out with her in college. Katy was a good person and I wished there was an easy way to tell her I wasn't interested.

Katy's purse table was nestled in the middle of the booths set up for selling handcrafted merchandise. A plethora of purses lay nicely arranged on the table. Katy went behind it and began presenting me all the various types of purses she and her mom had made. They were nice purses, but I had a hard time focusing on the excruciating details that Katy was presenting me.

I saw Pam out of the corner of my eye and my attention was immediately off Katy and her purses. Pam was standing a few booths down, looking at a collection of cat figurines. She looked my direction, but when she caught my eye, her head jolted the other way.

I turned my attention back to Katy who was chatting cheerfully about the red leather purse in her hand. As I watched her, it dawned on me that Katy's favorite movie was 'Legally Blonde'. I remember her telling me that once. I smiled at the irony.

* * *

I left Katy not long after, stating that I needed to get back to my job. She was nice about it, but I think she was aware that I wasn't interested. I got a short quote from her and left her booth after an awkward goodbye. Thankfully, she didn't ask to go out to coffee again.

I made my way to the booth where Pam inspecting a small, black cat figurine in her hands, twirling it slowly. Her gaze shifted towards me, our eyes met for a split second before she returned to examining the figurine.

"Angela, I had no idea you made these," Pam said, to the tiny blonde woman behind the table. She placed the black cat figurine down and picked up the white one that sat next to it. "They really are beautiful."

"Thank you Pam," Angela said with a forced smile, "But will you please stop touching? You're getting finger prints all over them." She snatched the figurine out of her hand, placing it in the open spot amongst the rest of the figurines.

"Oh, I think they're lovely," a heavyset woman standing next to Pam said, adjusting her glasses to examine a leopard print one.

"No one asked you, Phyllis," Angela said in a harsh tone, tearing the figurine out of Phyllis's hand. "Can I help you?" she asked curtly as I came up behind Pam and Phyllis.

"I'm Jim, from the Scranton Times, I wondered if you'd like to answer a few questions for an article I'm writing."

"Weren't you here all day yesterday?" she asked snidely.

"Um, yes."

"Oh, I'd like to answer your questions," Phyllis said, a bright gleam in her eyes, "I'm one of the curators…"

"Phyllis, you are assistant curator," Angela reminded her. "Don't think you can answer for me."

Phyllis's face fell, "I just thought since you are busy selling your trinkets-"

"They are porcelain cat figurines," Angela said upset, "How dare you call these precious collectors items trinkets."

"Well," Phyllis said, "They look just like the ones Bob and I found at a flea market."

"Phyllis!" Angela snarled offended.

"Phyllis and Angela are our curators," Pam explained to me. "They pretty much decided whose art is on display and organized all of the tents."

"So, do you guys want to mention anything about the process of choosing which pieces of art were included in the festival?" I asked, getting me recorder out to tape their answers.

Angela gave her answer first, "We scrutinize and debate over every piece of work that gets submitted, going through a precise and thorough process, which weighs the pros and cons of each artwork. The collection we have on display, we feel, is the best representation of the well rounded talent the community has to offer."

"Actually, we just picked the ones we liked," Phyllis said with a grin. She winked at me in a way that made me feel slightly uncomfortable. I could see that this amused Pam.

"And you do art yourself?" I asked Angela, avoiding Phyllis's lingering gaze.

"Yes." She said flatly, not wanting to elaborate on the cat figurines.

"Ok, thank you ladies for you time," I said politely.

"So, do you want to walk around the booths a little," Pam asked.

"Sure," I said. We left Phyllis and Angela, and headed down the rows of booths. I deliberately picked the direction away from Katy's purse table. "So, the curator makes cat figurines. That's interesting."

Pam let out a small laugh, "Yeah, she's been making them for years. It's what she hands out for Christmas gifts every year. She's, like, a crazy cat lady. But I don't really blame her for having another hobby. We're all a little nervous about our jobs?"

"Really?" I asked. We continued to walk past the booths but didn't stop to look at anything.

"Yeah, We-" She stopped to look up at me. "Can I talk to you as a friend and not as a reporter?"

"Sure. Yes, definitely." I said, elated to have her think of me as a friend.

"The museum is hurting badly," she explained. "With the economy hurting as bad as it is, there isn't much money left for the arts, you know? Last year, I think around the end of October, you know before the holiday season, Jan had to lay off fifteen people. So, I think a lot of us have little hobbies on the side to bring in some money."

"Oh, makes sense," I said, understanding the money pinch. It wasn't like the newspaper was flourishing either.

"I don't know if it'd be such a bad thing if they let me go," she said, "I mean, I need a job and they're not going to because they need a PR person, but I don't know, sometimes I think it would give me the fresh start I need."

"Do you know what you'd do?" I asked, genuinely interested.

"You know, I often think about how I'd leave, but I never get to the after part. Maybe I'd go somewhere else." She gave me a lopsided smile. "Do you know what you would do, if you didn't have job?"

"Oh, I'd go to Maryland," I said, mostly because it was the first thing that popped in my head. It was not a subject I thought about often. "Because I love soft-shell crab and the ocean."

"So, what's stopping your from going?" She asked curiously.

"I don't know," I stumbled. My life was so content in Scranton that it never occurred to me leave and at this moment, Scranton was the only place I wanted to be.

"Well, I've never been to the ocean," Pam admitted.

"Really? Never?"

She shook her head, "I want to go before I die. There and the Grand Canyon. And Europe."

"You know, the Grand Canyon is just a big hole in the ground," I joked.

"Have you traveled a lot?" She asked.

"A little," I wasn't a world traveler, but I had been to my fair share of places. I got the impression, though, that Pam had spent most of her life in Western Pennsylvania.

Pam's eyes grew wise with excitement, "And, I really want to live in a house with a terrace."

"Why's that?"

"This is going to sound stupid, but I read it in a book when I was a little girl and it always stuck me," She explained. "But there aren't any in Scranton, so I'll have to find a place that has one."

"That doesn't sound stupid at all."

Pam shifted uneasily, "So, um, that Katy seems like a really nice girl," she said attempting to sound casual.

"Oh yeah, she is," I replied not interested in discussing Katy, but amused that Pam brought it up.

"She's awfully perky," she commented mostly to herself. "So are you guys dating or something? I mean, how was coffee?"

"Coffee was alright," I answered smiling. "We're not dating. She's just an old friend."

"Oh," she replied, a smile tugging on her lips.

* * *

"Hey Pam," a man who would later be introduced to me as Oscar Martinez said, "Do you mind coming with me for a second."

"Um, sure," Pam replied. "What's up?"

"I think you're going to need to see this," Oscar said.

Pam and I exchanged looks as we followed Oscar to a corner of the park. Standing in an isolated patch of grass was what looked like a fortune telling machine. The bottom half was made of wood, but it was banged and kicked in several places. The top half held a mannequin, dressed as a fortuneteller, wearing moon and star patterned silver and purple garments, an eye patch and a sadistic smile, sat in front of a crystal ball. The mannequin was encased in glass, which was lined with royal purple velvet. The whole thing stood a good ten feet tall.

"Oh my god," Pam said in disbelief.

"Is that art?" I asked, not exactly sure why something like this would be sitting here all by itself.

"That is not art," Oscar responded disgusted. "I have no idea what it's doing here, which is why I came to get you."

Pam approached it hesitantly, walking around the whole box to inspect it. "It's plugged in," she said, holding up the cord in the back. "And look, there's a slot to put in money. It's like one of those games you find at carnivals."

"Or in the movie 'Big'," I suggested.

"Did you authorize anything like this?" Oscar asked perplexed.

"No," Pam said, coming back around to join us. She looked up at the machine and tilted her head. "Is that a man or a woman?"

"Um, it does have a mustache," I observed.

"Yeah, I'm still not sure," Pam said squinting her eyes.

"I don't think that's what we need to be concerned with," Oscar said, clearly annoyed. "What is it doing here?"

"Maybe we put a coin in and tomorrow we'll be grown-ups," I joked. Oscar was not amused.

"Who in god's good graces decided to create that?" It was Angela, who stood a few feet behind us with her arms folded across her chest and a frown on her face. "I did not authorize that."

"I think it's sort of unique," Phyllis, who was standing beside her, commented.

"It's not art," Pam and I said at the same time.

"Thank heavens for that," Angela sneered.

Phyllis walked up to the machine, "Do you know what it does?"

"We're still trying to figure out why it's here," Oscar answered.

"Well, I don't think it would hurt to try," Phyllis said, fishing her pockets for a quarter. When she found one, she placed it in the gold slot located just below the glass.

The machine gave a loud pop, causing us all to jump back. Black, gold, and silver lights began flashing from the top of the glass casing. The mannequin's hand began to rotate over the crystal ball, which had lit up a light violet and spun slowly. The mannequin's eyes glowed a deep red and it's jaw opened and shut repeatedly. A strange and ominous tinny music flowed out of the machine. The whole show lasted a good ten seconds before shutting off and a small piece of paper fluttered down into the hole below the coin slot. We were all a little shocked at the freakish display.

Phyllis reached for the paper and read it aloud to us, "It may be the end of the world, but everything will be fine. Is that supposed to be a fortune?"

Angela rolled her eyes, "Are we really supposed to believe anything that comes out of a tacky slot machine and is based off of magic used by the devil?"

"I do not think this should stay here," Oscar said, trying to rein the conversation back to something practical.

"Whose ugly ass sculpture is taking up space at our festival?" Kelly had come to join the group, followed by a disheveled Ryan. "No wonder it was placed out here in the middle of nowhere."

"It's not art," Phyllis, Angela, and Oscar stated at the same time.

"What is it?" Ryan asked with a look of distaste.

"Oh, it tells fortunes," I said with a smile. I was finding the whole situation rather amusing.

"Oooo, fortunes," Kelly squealed. She pushed her way past Pam and I to get to the machine. "How does it work? Do you have to ask it a question? Oh, Ryan, maybe it will tell us how many babies we'll have."

Ryan became red with embarrassment, "Kelly, it's a stupid machine. It's not going to tell you anything."

"How do you know that? You haven't tried it," Kelly sneered.

"Are you going to tell me you haven't ever seen one of these things?" Ryan asked.

Kelly ignored the question. "I need a quarter, Ryan."

"I don't have one."

"You always have one."

"No, I don't."

Kelly was insistent, "Yes you do. Remember, I told you that you need to always need to keep a few quarters on hand just in case it's a dire emergency and I am forced to get a tampon out of those machines in the bathrooms, not that I ever want to be using a tampon from a public bathroom, because seriously, yuck. I mean how gross are those things."

Angela shot her a look of disbelief. "I do not think it's the appropriate time to be discussing such things."

"You know, I can think of a good fifty other things that we probably should be doing," Oscar said with a sigh.

"Ryan, give me a quarter," Kelly wined, holding out her hand. Ryan finally gave in and pulled a quarter out of his pocket. "Yay!" Kelly said as she slipped the quarter in the slot.

"Um, so is this what work is like for you all the time?" I whispered to Pam while the light show went on for a second time.

Pam stared up at me seriously. "I would like to tell you that this is a one time weird occurrence," she said shaking her head, "But it's not."

"Huh, and I thought I had seen strange things on the job," I stated.

"You have no idea."

"Oh, here it is," Kelly sang happily, waving the small card at everyone. "There's the progress we have found a way to talk around the problem. Building towered foresight isn't anything at all. Um, what the hell does that mean?"

"I told you it wasn't worth it," Ryan said with a smug smile.

"Oh, whatever, give me another quarter I want to try it again."

"No," Ryan argued. Kelly and Ryan began to fight over a quarter. Oscar tried to intervene, but to no avail, which resulted in another snarky comment by Angela. Meanwhile, Phyllis was debating, aloud, the sex of the mannequin. Soon, all five of them were talking at once.

"I think I'm going to try out the machine, get my fortune," I said, ignoring the growing commotion.

"That thing is obviously a cheap gimmick," Pam said.

"Yeah, but it's fun," I gave a shrug and fished my pocket for a quarter. The light show went on again, no one really noticing because they were still too busy arguing with each other. The tiny card came down and I picked it up, reading it to myself. Take comfort in your friends, because everybody hurts sometimes. What the hell, I thought, were all these fortunes just snippets of R.E.M. songs?

"What's it say?" Pam asked, trying to read my expression.

"Oh, nothing," I said casually, clenching the card in my hand.

"Let me see," Pam said, trying to make a grab for it. I pulled my hand out of her reach. She pawed for it again and I deliberately kept it away.

"It's really not that interesting," I insisted.

She smiled and tilted her head at me. "Then why are you hiding it?"

I shrugged and she let out a laugh. She reached for it again and this time I outstretched my hand over my head. I was a good foot taller her than her, which it made it impossible for her to get it. She tried anyway, jumping a few times for it laughing as she did so. When she couldn't reach it, she stood on her toes and placed on hand on my chest to get better leverage. I could feel her warm hand, through the thin fabric of my shirt, over my heart. She continued to reach for the paper, her arm sliding against mine, her fingers almost able to grasp it, giving one more effort, but unable to reach, she lowered herself, resting her other hand on my chest for support. A strong tension replaced the playfulness of the moment. I lowered my arm, instinctively sliding it around her waist to pull her closer to me. I could feel the heat from her body and I knew she could feel my heart begin to race. I looked into her eyes, wanting to know if she felt the same rush I was experiencing, but she turned away nodding at Phyllis who had been watching us.

"Jim, let go." It didn't register the first time she said it. "Jim, please, let go." There was a bit of panic in her voice and she used her hands to push away from me.

I released her. "Pam, I'm sorry-," I stammered, though I couldn't say that I really was. She walked towards Oscar, a frown on her face. I wish I could take back whatever I had done to make her pull away, but I wasn't even sure what that was.

"What is going on?" asked a stern voice. Everyone became quiet as Jan neared the group. "Why is my staff huddled around a single exhibit when there are other things that they should be doing?"

"It's not art," a few people mumbled.

Jan, for the first time, looked at the machine. "Why the hell is there a crappy fortune telling machine at my festival?"

"Oh, it's here." Michael came forward, looking as a gleeful as a kid in a candy store.

"Michael, are you the one that ordered this?" Oscar asked.

"That would explain it," Angela scoffed.

"Does it work, has anybody tried it?" He asked, going right up to it to examine it. "Quick, somebody give me a quarter." Jan looked too steamed to even comment.

"Michael," Pam said, using a soft voice, "why did you get this thing?"

"Oh, it's like in the movie 'Big'," Michael explained. I smiled with content and gave Pam an 'I told you so' look, but she shook her head with disapproval. "Not only is it fun, but it would earn some money for the museum. Now I need a quarter."

Ryan thought it over, "at most it would earn, what, a couple hundred dollars in change?"

"How much did this cost?" Oscar asked hesitant to hear the answer.

"Um, five thousand dollars," Michael said, not as enthusiastic as he was before.

"Five thousand dollars…" Oscar repeated in disbelief.

Kelly let out a vicious laugh, "You spent five thousand dollars to rent a crappy fortune telling machine? What a moron."

"Well, you see," Michael stammered. "Rent isn't exactly the right word."

"Oh, Michael," Pam said with a sigh.

"Where did you get the money?" Oscar asked. He was looking rather ill.

"From the budget," Michael answered defensively. "I saw that we had a little extra saved up so I decided to use it."

Jan was absolutely livid. "You used the money that we had earmarked for this spring's Impressionist show on a beat-up, oversized toy?"

"Um, no," Michael responded.

Jan let out a yell and stormed off, too angry to deal with the situation at that moment. The rest of the group began to disperse in low spirits, eventually leaving only Pam, Michael and I with the machine. Michael was facing it, looking sad.

"Jim, will you do me a favor," Pam asked. Whatever strangeness had occurred between us was trumped. "Will you please not mention this or anything possibly damaging to the museum in your article?"

"I won't," I promised.

"Thank you," she replied.


	6. Kiss The Girl

"Michael, are you alright?" Pam asked as she and I came to Michael's side. He was still standing forlorn in front of the fortune-telling machine. "Is there any thing we can do for you?" She rested one hand on his shoulder.

"I have to find her," Michael said suddenly, breaking away from Pam's grasp. "I have to find Jan."

"I think she may a need a few minutes to cool down," I suggested, eyeing the five-thousand dollar fortune-telling machine. I believed Jan might need a more than a few minutes, but Michael wasn't content to wait that long.

"No, I have to fix this," Michael said as he sprinted in the direction that Jan had left. Pam called out to him, but he was already long gone.

"Should we stop him?" I asked.

Pam shook her head. "He pulls this all the time and Jan, somehow, manages to forgive him. But five-thousand dollars? I think it may be best to let her deal with that." She gave me a lopsided smile. "So, what did that fortune say, anyway?"

She didn't seem angry any longer. I had a hard time judging if in that moment earlier she was annoyed the fact that other people were watching or just with me. I wanted to ask, but she hadn't mentioned it, and even if she was sweeping it under the rug, I didn't dare upset the balance we had now, so I let it go.

"Um, 'everybody hurts sometimes'," I replied. She tilted her head, not sure if I was joking or not, but before I could say more, a man I hadn't seen in ages came walking forward.

"Jim Halpert," he said, clapping me on the back. "How goes it?"

"Christian, hey," I said, happy to see an old friend and colleague. I shook his hand.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, "I don't believe I've ever known you come to an art festival in your life."

Pam gave me an odd look, wondering what the statement meant, but instead of acknowledging her look, I answered Christian's question. "I'm doing a major story on the art festival," I explained. "Josh wants full coverage, so I'm here all day."

Christian shook his head, but didn't look entirely convinced. He had worked at the newspaper for years and was well aware that art festivals weren't usually front page news. He moved on, noticing Pam. "I see you've met the lovely Mrs. Anderson," he said, taking Pam's hand and giving it a suave kiss. "Whom I had the pleasure to meet last year at the festival."

Pam wrinkled her nose, much like she did yesterday when I called her by married name. "Beesly now," she said, holding up her left hand to show a ring finger void of a ring.

"Oh really," Christian replied sympathetically. "How long ago?"

"Six months," Pam replied, but she wasn't interested in talking about the divorce. She was more interested in how we knew each other. "So, you and Jim are friends?"

"Oh yeah," Christian said, throwing me a smile.

"Christian worked as the editor for the Scranton Times when I first started," I explained. "That is before you got that prestigious gig up in New York. Writing for an art magazine, can't be bothered to deal with us lowlifes that have to report real news."

"Yup, I've moved on to higher and better things," Christian laughed, "But we do have stories don't we? Pam, back when Jim interned, he and a few of the other newbies used to stay and help me finish the final layout before the paper went out to press. Ah, those were great times, running around, getting everything in before the deadline. All of us taking turn making questionable dinners in that small basement kitchen. This guy could make the best grilled cheese sandwiches I've ever had. If you ever want gourmet grilled cheese, he's your guy."

"Really?" Pam raised her eyebrows, interested.

"Sure," I said, "They weren't half as good as Murray, who made us all burritos."

"Don't be modest," Christian insisted. "Murray's burritos were store bought anyway. All he did was heat them up."

"I guess I'll have to try out these famous sandwiches," Pam said amused.

"Well, I do make ham and cheese and tuna if you want a choice," I added.

Christian let out a laugh. "Do you remember your first story? The night that we were nearly up all night because you were late turning your article in."

"Oh right, the hockey game," I recalled fondly. "The first story I had all to myself and I couldn't turn it in because the game didn't finish until early the next morning."

"What was it, four, five overtimes?" Christian asked, rubbing his chin. "And we had to wait until that stupid team finally pulled their goalie-"

"And it was over in five seconds," I finished for him. "That was a good game."

"That was some amazing grilled cheese at three in the morning," Christian complimented. "Better than that pizza Johnson tried making. To this day, I still don't know what that brown stuff was."

"That sounds crazy," Pam said, wanting to be apart of the conversation. "It figures it would be hockey holding you up. I can't stand hockey." Christian and I both shot her a look. "What?"

"Do you have a hockey story?" I asked curiously.

"It's stupid, really," she said, rolling her eyes. "Um, I went on this date with this guy, one time, to a hockey game. Well, a minor league hockey game and not only did he bring his brother on our first date, but he left me at the game and didn't come back for me until I called him two hours later."

"Oh no," Christian let out.

"He sounds like a real winner," I added sarcastically.

"Well, it was a long time ago," Pam said. "It doesn't matter any more. I don't go to sports game any more, though. Not on first dates anyway." I noticed her thumb played with a non-existent ring on the third finger of her left hand. Her ex had been that date, I was almost positive of that.

"Don't feel bad," Christian sympathized with her. "I once had a date that threw up on me while we were stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel. I still can't ride them without feeling a bit nauseous myself."

I let out a little laugh, "Yeah, I guess we all have our disastrous first date stories."

"Well, speaking of dating," Christian said turning towards me. "Jim how's the pretty little brunette you danced around for ages. Did you ever get around to asking her out?"

My eyes grew wide the moment Christian brought her up. I had not anticipated the subject of Karen and I could feel Pam's eyes boring in on me while she waited for me to speak. It was bad enough that Katy had been around, still around, bringing up Karen seemed unbearable. I wanted to avoid talk about my recent ex-girlfriend as much as possible. "You know, she's fine. She asked me out eventually, but we're not- we aren't dating any longer."

"You too, huh?" Christian asked, disappointed to hear of the demise of the relationship. "Well, I'm glad to say Lucy and I are celebrating our thirtieth next month."

"That's great," I said a little too enthusiastic. Any subject was better than going into detail about my love life. "How wonderful for you guys. So, Christian what are you doing here anyway? Just visiting or-"

"Oh right," Christian look as though he forgot he was even at an art festival. "Actually, I'm here to do a little write-up for the magazine. Not something they usually go for, but since it's my home town and all, they said it'd be alright."

"Really?" Pam's eyes grew wide with excitement. "That means mention of the festival and our local art work will be in one of the biggest art magazines in New York."

"That's awesome," I commented, genuinely happy for her opportunity.

"What's more," Christian continued, "if anyone at the magazine likes what they see, we could ask artists to bring their stuff to New York as well as getting some of the art people in New York interested supporting the museum here. Help encourage it to grow, I think."

Pam looked shocked, "I don't even know what to say. The museum could totally use that kind of publicity right now. And to find someone interested in a private donation? I mean, that would be amazing. We want to build a wing onto the museum, so if you know of anyone, I mean anyone, who's willing to support us than I can't thank you enough."

"Well, let me write up my story first, then we'll take it from there," Christian said.

"You know," I said, feeling the need to throw my own two cents in. "I've been here for two days and I promise you, Christian, that they have a lot to offer. So, I doubt you'll have a problem finding someone who would like to help them out."

Pam gave me a grateful smile. "Um, is there anywhere you want to start? Any kind of art you'd like to see first?"

"Actually, I would speak with your director." Christian state. "Jan Levinson still, right?"

"Yes," Pam answered right away. "I don't know where she is, but let me try calling her. She usually has her cell on."

As Pam searched for her cell phone, Christian noticed the fortune-telling machine behind us. "What is that monstrosity?" he asked.

"Oh, that's a five-thousand dollar box that spits out R.E.M. lyrics for a quarter," I deadpanned.

Christian shook his head, "This isn't how they're raising money is it?"

"No, no," I said quickly. "Please don't make any judgments based on this thing. It was, apparently, a dumb mistake."

"Oh, I won't," Christian assured me. "I've been well aware how SIA conducts business and for years I've thought they've made a lot of dumb mistakes." We both watched as Pam made the call on her phone. She paced back and forth a few feet away. As she did, Christian leaned toward me and asked in a lowered voice, "Is she seeing anyone now? I have a colleague whose son is about her age."

I froze at the question, my breath literally stopping. "I, um, don't think she is. I mean, she hasn't told me anything, but we've just met, so I wouldn't- know."

Christian studied me for a second. As much I as I tried to hide my thoughts, Christian read me like a book. "Have you asked her out yet?"

I was taken aback by his bluntness, "I asked her to come out and watch me play basketball and she asked me to waffles at the festival this morning, but neither worked out."

"That's not asking her out," Christian informed me. "So, what's stopping you?"

"I don't know," I replied honestly. Up until this point, asking her out wasn't exactly a conscious thought. I had spent all my energy just trying to be near her.

"Well, you better do it soon," he advised. "A girl like that, she'll get snatched up quick. And Jim, she's one of the good ones."

Pam snapped her phone shut to rejoin us. "Well, I can't get a hold of Jan at the moment," she said. "She must not have her phone on." Christian wasn't listening; he was too busy silently nodding for me to ask her out on a date. I shook my head at him, thinking that it really wasn't the appropriate time to ask anything. "What?" Pam asked, now feeling aware that we had been talking about her.

"Nothing," I replied hastily. "Why don't we go walk around and find Jan? She's got to be around her somewhere."

Pam gave me a strange look, but went with it. "I'm sure she hasn't strayed too far away, if you don't mind walking, Christian."

"I don't at all," He said, giving me a disappointed look.

We walked a few yards when a strange noise, sounding vaguely like moaning, came from behind the big oak tree we were passing. "Oh my god," Pam said, shock in her voice. "That sounds like Jan."

I wanted to know how she knew that, but Pam didn't wait for me to ask any questions. Instead, she went behind the tree and gave out a shriek. Christian and I joined her, stunned to see Michael and Jan, pushed against the tree, locked in an embrace. Jan, noticing our presence, pushed Michael away as fast as she could, but Michael held on firmly, trying to kiss her neck.

"Oh my god," Jan said when she saw us standing there.

Michael pulled away and gave us a sheepish grin. "Jan, I think we're at threat level midnight."

* * *

"Christian, hi," Jan said in that high false voice of hers. She began patting down her hair, a large chuck of which managed to escape the bun it was in and drape down her left side. Her blouse had been untucked and her top buttons were undone, revealing a bit too much of her lacy black bra. She held out her hand for Christian, who shook it uneasily. "I knew you were coming out maybe tomorrow," she began to babble. "Or Thursday, but I hardly expected to see you today."

"Um, tomorrow is Thursday," I interjected automatically. "It's only Wednesday." She shot me a nasty glare and I decided now was not the best time to correct her mistake.

"Jan, I don't believe we were done," Michael butted in. His hair was looking just as messy. His clothes weren't quite as unkempt, but he did look as though he had been rolling around in the dirt.

"Not now, Michael," Jan said, keeping the plastered smile on her face.

"But Jan," Michael whined again.

"Michael, this is Christian," Jan introduced, "He's the very important art journalist that came in from New York, don't you remember me talking about him? Christian, you remember my assistant Michael Scott? You'll have to forgive him, he's not- very well trained."

"Hello, Christian," Michael said, stepping up to Christian and grabbing his hand, even though Christian didn't offer it. "Yes, I am Michael, and I'm sure you know my lover, Jan Levinson."

"Oh," Jan groaned rubbing her head.

"Ew," Pam said disgusted.

"Pam, how can you be grossed out by that?" Michael asked offended. I believe we were all appalled at the image we had just witnessed. "The love between a man and a woman is a very beautiful thing. And Jan has the most beautiful-"

"Michael, please that is inappropriate," Jan scolded quietly. "We talked about that, remember?"

"But Jan, you-"

"No, Michael, not now," Jan said, trying to keep what little dignity she had going for her. "We want to make a good impression here."

Christian began to explain what he had told Pam and I earlier. Jan listened to him intently, but had a hard time concentrating with Michael interrupting every few seconds to interject an odd remark or off hand comment. She tried to swat him away, as if he were an unwanted insect, but no matter how hard she tried, Michael kept stepping in. Christian did his best to ignore Michael, but didn't know how to compete with someone who needed constant attention every second.

Meanwhile, Pam was still having a hard time comprehending what she saw. "I just don't believe it," she whispered to me. We stood a few feet away and kept our voices low. "I mean it's Michael and Jan." She scrunched her nose and shook her head, as if to rid herself of the image.

"You guys really didn't know?" I asked, thinking that it made complete sense coming from an outsider's perspective. It answered a lot of questions I had about Michael.

"No," Pam responded. "I mean, there has been a lot of speculation as to why Jan keeps him around all this time, but none of us entertained the thought-" She couldn't finish the sentence.

"That they might have a secret relationship going on," I finished for her.

"Yeah," she continued. "I mean, how does one even come back from that?"

"Oh, I don't know," I said, contemplating her words. "I guess once you go down that road with someone, it's hard to get back-"

"No," Pam shook her head. "How can Jan come back from hooking up with Michael?"

I laughed at my misunderstanding, "Yeah, I don't know about that."

"She used to know better," Pam said, as we watched Jan pull a cigarette from her purse and lit up, much to the distaste of Christian. "I mean, I know she's been having a hard time lately, but what is she doing?" I didn't have an answer for her.

"You know what Christian," Jan was saying, "why don't we continue this in a more private location where there are less distractions."

Christian didn't look like he was interested in being alone with Jan, "I'm sure we can work this out here. I just need a few recommendations of artists and-"

"Jan, I would require you to be alone with me as well," Michael said, not letting up.

Jan took a long drag on her cigarette, "only if it's work related, Michael."

"It is," he assured her. "I'd like to discuss how lovely you smell today."

"How is that work related?" Jan snapped.

"You're here at work," Michael informed her.

"You know what, maybe now isn't the best time," Christian said, looking for anyway way to escape the uncomfortable situation. "I'm in town for a few days, I can come back later."

"Michael," Pam jumped in, knowing that if Christian left, he might not come back. "Why don't you come with Jim and I? We need, uh, your expertise." She grabbed at Michael's arm, pulling him away from Jan and Christian.

"Right," I added going off her lead. "Let's let Jan and Christian have some private time and you can help me with my article."

"Oh, that's great. I would love to be your expert," Michael said. Jan looked relieved to see him leaving, but although Michael was thrilled at being called an expert, he still had a few things left to say. "Jan, I am going with them now, but when we get back I would like to discuss the future of our relationship. I think I've made it perfectly clear where I stand and it would be nice if you did the same."

"Nothing is going to happen again," Jan replied quickly, to get Michael off her back.

Michael wasn't satisfied, "Why? We've done this on multiple occasions and you've always seemed fine then. Are you scared? You're just scared. You should do what I do when I'm scared-"

"Michael, go with Pam," Jan insisted. "We'll discuss this later."

"You always say that," Michael said loudly, attracting the attention of a few people walking by. "I want to know now. I think I deserve the respect I give you and I want a commitment Jan. No more fooling around, I want a commitment. Quit playing games with men's hearts."

"Michael, I am so tired of having this same argument," Jan said, throwing her cigarette on the ground and stomping it out. She reached in her purse and pulled out a second one. "We have been going in circles for over a year now and quite frankly, I'm tired of fighting this fight. You know what, I'm glad it's out in the open now, because I don't think I could handle much more of it. So, you know what Michael, it's over. Over. No more sneaking around, no more lies, I'm done. You are welcome to stay on as my assistant if you want, but our relationship will remain on a professional level, do you understand that? Now, Christian and I have some important business matters to discuss. Business matters that could be potentially beneficial to the well being of this museum, which it really needs, ok?"

Pam and I exchanged looks. We were both a little in awe that Jan had the gumption to break-up with Michael in the middle of the art festival. Michael seemed to be a bit to swallow, but Jan wasn't acting any better.

"Ok," Michael replied. "But why do you want to end this. We are good together. Can't you see that? Please don't do this."

"I will talk to you later," Jan said soundly.

"But Jan-"

"I will talk to you later." Jan grabbed Christian's arm and escorted him away from the scene. Michael called out to them, but Jan ignored him, marching away before anyone else stopped to look. Michael wanted to go after them, but Pam and I restrained him, both us grabbing one of Michael's arms to stop him. He struggled a bit, but not enough to break free.

Eventually, Michael sat down on the ground, under the big tree and began to cry. "What did she mean, Pam? What did she mean by that?"

Pam and I sat down on either side of him. "I think she just needs a little space," Pam explained, attempting to console him. "And she's looking out for the museum and her job right now."

"But she said she would talk to me later," Michael said. "What did that mean? Do you think she wants to get back together?"

"I think that meant she'll talk to you later," I suggested.

Michael let out a loud groan, "Oh, it's the end of the world."

"I don't think so," I said, patting him on the back. "I'm sure there are other, better women out there for you than Jan."

"No, there's not," Michael cried. He shoved his head unexpectedly into Pam's shoulder and began to moan louder. Pam lightly placed an arm around him, not sure how to give him comfort. "I have to do something. I have to do something to win her back."

"I think Jim's right," Pam said softly. "Maybe you want to move on."

"I don't want to move on," Michael continued. "She was hot. And smart. And I loved her. Sometimes she said she loved me. Sure, she is crazy sometimes and she doesn't like to cuddle after sex, but she's the one, I know it."

"Do you really know that?" I asked doubtful.

"I have to do something," Michael said, pulling away from Pam and wiping the tears off his face. "Have to make a gesture. I have to show her I love her." Michael stood up. Pam and I quickly followed.

"I don't know if that's the best idea," Pam said concerned.

"Yes it is," Michael insisted. "I know what I want to do."

"Um, Michael, let's wait a bit," I offered. "Pam and I can stay with you for a little bit if you want."

"No, I have to do it now. A big gesture." A smile grew on Michael's face as he formed a plan. "I know exactly what will get her attention."

"Michael, are you sure-" Pam began.

"I know what I'm doing," Michael said firmly. "Either you're with me or not, but I'm going to need some help."

* * *

"Do you have any idea what Michael is up to?" I asked Pam as we followed Michael. He was nearly running, so we were doing our best to keep up with his pace.

"I never know," Pam replied.

Michael stopped when we reached the pavilion, where the basket weaving was still going on. "Wait here," he cried.

"Michael, we've got things to do," Pam reminded him.

"Please, Pam," Michael begged. He had a bit of desperation in his eyes and Pam gave in.

"Fine, but you better be quick."

Twenty minutes later, he came back huffing and puffing, holding a cassette tape in his hand. "Pam, you know how to work the sound system right?" He asked hopefully.

"Yeah, but Michael, I don't know if it's such a good idea," Pam responded worried. She looked to me for support.

"Michael, I don't think you need a sound system to say anything that might need saying," I told him.

"If you can't help me, I'll find someone that will or I'll do it myself," Michael threatened and we knew that he was serious.

At the front of the pavilion, next to the raised stage, was the sound system equipment and Michael began to punch buttons. Watching Michael fiddle with and possibly damaging expensive equipment was enough for Pam to help him out. I stood behind them and watched as Pam got the tape ready and reluctantly gave Michael the microphone. As Michael climbed on the vacant stage, Pam threw me a look, which told me she was helping him out against her better judgment.

"Hello, everyone here at this wonderful festival," his voice registered through the speakers and echoed around the park. The microphone squeaked making everyone in the vicinity jump. The basket weavers, who were currently using the pavilion, stopped their demonstrations to look at him along with a handful of confused people passing by. "I am going to sing a song. It is dedicated to my amazingly hot boss, Jan, who is also my girlfriend. Jan, if you're out there, please come sing this duet with me."

Pam's mouth dropped and I let out a little laugh. Jan wasn't present, but Angela, Phyllis and Kelly found their way to the pavilion to watch a desperate and energized Michael.

"What is going on?" Angela demanded. "Michael didn't schedule any time at the mike. Pam, aren't you going to stop this?"

"Michael's trying to apologize to Jan," Pam explained.

"What, for the five-thousand dollars?" Phyllis asked.

Pam shook her head, "No, because apparently, they've been dating for about a year now and Jan just dumped him."

Phyllis and Angela both let out a little gasp. "Has the woman lost her self respect?" Angela judged.

Kelly had a different take. "Oh my god, is he going to sing for Jan?" Kelly cooed, "That's so romantic. I can't believe Michael could do something romantic. Usually, I think he's such a loser, but I can't believe he's trying to be so romantic. I wonder if dating Michael is why Jan is so sad all the time."

"Look, I promise to pull the plug if Michael gets too carried away," Pam assured them.

Michael had Pam push the play button and I recognized, because I had a roommate who listened to too much Dolly Parton while we lived together in college, the first few notes of 'Islands in the Stream'. It was the karaoke version, so Michael had to fill in the lyrics himself. He was a horrible singer, completely off key, much to the chagrin of the crowd, but he had so much earnest in his voice I couldn't help but feel a little bad about his abysmal attempt.

He was able to get through the first verse just fine, but when he began to sing the girl's part in falsetto and stumble during the second verse, I couldn't help feel a little bad for him. I hated to see anyone struggle with humiliation, especially because of a girl, so I went on stage with him and joined in. The moment I opened my mouth, Michael turned to me happily and sang louder than ever.

I can't sing. I don't ever attempt to either. And normally I try to hide my truly dorky side from public display, never wanting to embarrass myself in front of a crowd like this, but I saw Pam standing off to the side, grinning proudly at me, and I lost the self-conscious feeling I normally get. As the refrain came in, I relaxed a bit more. Michael and I, feeling comfortable on the stage, began to move around a bit. Some may call it dancing, but it was really two idiots making fools of themselves on stage. The more Pam laughed, the more I poured myself into that song, and I didn't care if the whole festival, most of who had swarmed over to the pavilion, was watching. Michael apparently didn't either and we ended the song with much less grace than we started, our arms around each other, searching to hit the final note.

Michael had tears in his eyes as the crowd cheered. Even the basket-weavers, who at first felt rudely interrupted, seemed to be delighted by the performance. They called for some sort of an encore, but that was enough for me. Michael announced that it was a one time occurrence, but he'd be back next Tuesday to do stand-up and hoped that Jan, wherever she was, would forgive him. Jan never arrived and I was never sure if she even heard us, possibly busy in her meeting with Christian, but he gained a few points in my book.

Kelly was clearly impressed, "Michael you did so wonderful," she complimented, climbing on stage to give Michael a hug.

"Oh, well, it was nothing," Michael said, though he loved the attention the crowd was giving him. "And I don't see Jan, do you think she heard it?"

"Let's go find her," Kelly suggested. "The whole thing was super romantic and Jan just has to forgive you now. So what if you bought a hideous fortune telling machine. If a guy had the guts to stand up in front of everyone and sing, I'd take him back."

As Michael was getting attention from the Kelly, I snuck off the stage to be with Pam, who was standing on the far side of the pavilion. "That was incredibly sweet of you," She said, clearly impressed, "I don't know many people that can make Michael seem less of an idiot." I shrugged my shoulders in an attempt to keep my modesty.

Phyllis came over to us beaming, "Pam, I didn't realize you had such a sweet boyfriend. I didn't even know you were seeing someone." She said kindly.

Pam immediately tensed, "Oh, no, Phyllis, he's not- I mean we're not-" She paused to collect herself, obviously flustered by the mistake. I, however, was amused by it. "Jim's just here to be a reporter."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Phyllis's face fell, mortified by her mistake, "I didn't mean to imply anything, I just saw you guys together all day, and I just thought- Well, I didn't think an article on the festival would take that long?"

"Don't worry about it," I said to her, even though Phyllis remained apologetic for her mistake.

"I can't believe Michael did that," Angela cut in. "I would never embarrass myself with such a pathetic attempt for approval." I might have been insulted if Angela hadn't been sneering the entire time I've known her. "I think all matters of relationships should keep under wraps. It is no one else's business."

Pam looked up at me a little surprised. "I think Angela's the one with the secret boyfriend," she whispered to me.

* * *

Pam and I stayed at the pavilion to check out the basket weaving. The women hosting the demonstration have a club where they get together, chat, and make baskets every week and sell them at events such as this art festival mostly for charity. I have never been interested in basket weaving and probably never will be, but I followed Pam around as she checked out the different designs. I've never spent much time thinking about it, but now that I had a chance to see it first hand, I was amazed at the intricacy that was involved in creating the baskets. Each one was hand made, and used a variety of materials and designs to make-up one basket. No two baskets were the same and such a painstaking process that I had a new respect for the people that did these crafts. Besides the baskets the women were making there were tables filled with already made baskets for people to purchase.

As we walked around, Pam discussed the art of hand-made crafts and how they were represented in the museum. I had to admit that I didn't find it that interesting of a subject, but hearing Pam talk so passionately about the subject made me want to learn more.

Basket weaving was open to anyone who wanted to try it. Pam asked if I wanted to try, but I declined, stating that watching was more than enough for me. I was never that good at hand made crafts anyway. I did, however, get a few quotes for the article I was writing along with a few compliments about my singing.

"Not only is your article is going to be, like, ten pages long," Pam teased, "But it looks like you may have a new career oppportunity."

"Well, before I was a journalist, I did moonlight as a cocktail waitress slash lounge singer," I joked back.

She gave a little laugh as we approached one of the tables filled with already made baskets. She picked her way through them until she found one that she liked. "Oh my god, how cute is this?" She cooed, holding up the basket that caught her attention. It was a tiny, round picnic basket, only large enough to hold a few snacks. The wicker had been painted a light teal color and there were tiny gold and silver beads that outlined the circumference of the basket. A flowery pattern decorated the handle. "You could store a couple of sandwiches and juice boxes in here and go for a walk in the woods or something. I love it." She loved it until she saw the price tag. "Fifty dollars? I guess hand made picnic baskets don't come cheap," she said, placing the basket down where she got it.

"Why don't you ask one of the ladies to hold on to it for you," I suggested.

"No, it's alright," she replied, waving her hand at it. "I don't need it that badly or anything. I mean, how often do any of us go on picnics?"

I thought about picnics and taking Pam on one as we walked along further. I imagined a few places I could take her, secluded places in the woods, I would bring a blanket and wine and she could bring her basket with a small lunch. While I was lost in my daydream, Pam found a few less expensive baskets that she contemplated purchasing, but none of them she liked more than the one she had found earlier.

We hadn't made it too far before she checked her watch and found that time had passed quickly. "I didn't realize it was so late," she said with a little disbelief.

"Why, are you needed somewhere?" I asked, not ready to give up our time together.

"Yeah, we usually have out daily staff meeting in about ten minutes," she explained. "I mean, she could be in her meeting with Christian, but still I have to go."

"Go ahead and go," I insisted, not wanting to detract from her job.

"Are you sure?" She asked, a little hesitant. "Are you done here? I mean, do you have enough for your article?"

"Oh, no," I assured her. "You said something about a speech this evening. I wouldn't want to miss that. So, go ahead and go. I'm sure I'll find plenty to do in the mean time."

She nodded, "Alright, so, maybe we can meet back up by the fountain in the middle of the park?"

"Yup, sure." I replied. She told me she see me in a little bit and took off away from the pavilion.

After Pam had left, I initially thought I would leave the pavilion to seek out the art that I hadn't seen yet. But then I thought about the small basket she had been looking at before, and picnics and Michael's insistence on grand gestures, so I decided to seek it out. I toyed with the idea of buying it to make the fantasy a reality, but then I relented, thinking maybe it was too strange a thing to do, so I figured I'd just ask the woman who was selling it to hold on to the basket until Pam could afford it. Or I could talk the woman down to a lower price.

I went to the table where we saw it and searched around, but didn't see the basket anywhere. I looked a little harder, the second time removing all of the other baskets off the table, but found no trace of the teal basket Pam had found. At a nearby table, a slender, older, gray-haired woman next to a cash box asked if she could help me. I explained to her about the basket, stating that I wanted to purchase it for a friend of mine. She told me kindly that, unfortunately, it had already been sold to a blonde woman and her daughter a few minutes earlier. She pointed in the direction she had left.

I began to search for the woman who bought it. I had walked around the pavilion once, eventually catching a glance of the basket before I noticed the woman. Sure enough, she was a blonde woman, twice as old as me, accompanied by a dark-haired teenager. They were about to enter one of the art tents when I caught up to them.

"Excuse me ma'am." I said, tapping the older woman on the shoulder.

She turned around and gave me an odd look. "Do I know you?" She asked. The daughter smiled a little.

"No," I said carefully, "Well actually, I'm Jim Halpert, Scranton Times." I figured giving them the old pitch might make the situation seem a little less odd. "I'm doing an article on the art festival and was wondering if you minded if I interviewed you for the paper." I pulled out my tape recorder to get her quote.

The woman looked at me strangely, "Um, I don't know if I want to talk to a reporter."

"Come on, Mom," the girl said. "It's not going to hurt anything. If she doesn't want to can I talk?"

"Sure, if you want to," I replied.

"Fine," the mom said a bit resigned, "I'm Carol and this is my daughter Melissa."

"Hello, Carol and Melissa," I said in my friendliest voice. "What brings you to the art festival today?"

"I love art," Melissa jumped in before her mom could say anything. "And I've been begging Mom to take me for ages, but she doesn't like art. She sells real estate."

"Melissa," Carol stated embarrassed. "I do not hate art."

"Well, then why don't you ever want to come to my art shows?" Melissa asked.

"You know, it's great that you're here today," I interrupted, figuring it best to avoid conflicts between the mother and daughter. "You know the museum is trying to raise money for a new wing."

"I know, which is why I dragged mom out to see the skits earlier," Melissa informed me. "I'm bringing a bunch of friends back tomorrow for the dance and stuff. My best friend Jessica couldn't come today, but she'll totally be out here tomorrow."

"Cool," I said. "So, are you an artist yourself? I mean, there's a lot local artists in the show."

"Yeah, I do art," Melissa replied coolly, "I draw mostly, but I like photography as well."

"Did you make that basket your mom has?" I asked, pointing to the one in Carol's hands. "I know they have the basket weaving up at the pavilion now."

"What, that tacky looking thing?" Melissa asked. "No, I did not make that."

"It's a gift for my sister," Carol explained. "She likes home made gifts and I think she'd like it."

"It's ugly Mom," Melissa insisted. "There's a way cooler one that was all black…"

"Well, if you like that one better, maybe I can buy this one from you," I suggested.

"No, I don't think so," Carol said.

"How much?" Melissa asked automatically.

"I'll give you double," I said.

"I'm sorry, are you really a reporter?" Carol asked.

"Yes, I really am," I said, though I had no proof on me. "I just really like that basket."

Melissa looked very interested though, "Why do you want it so bad?" she asked curiously.

"So bad-ly," her mom corrected. "And I'm sorry, I don't think we'll be selling it."

"It's for my mother," I shot out quickly. "She loves this color and her birthday is tomorrow, so I thought it'd be the perfect gift."

"Dude, you are such a bad liar," the girl said, raising her eyebrows.

"Um, what?" I asked confused.

"I totally saw you dancing around on stage with that old guy," she continued. "You guys can't sing at all."

"Melissa," Carol cut in. "You're being rude."

"No, mom, he knows it." She said, and then turned back to me. "Yeah, and you were talking to that girl afterwards. I'm not stupid, I can tell when a guy likes a girl."

"Uh," I wasn't sure how to respond, she had completely called me out. "Fine, my friend really likes that basket. She wanted to get it, but didn't have the money, so I thought I'd give it to her as a present."

"Is she your girlfriend?" she asked.

I titled my head, "Not yet," I said honestly.

The girl smiled, "Come on, Mom, the guy is trying to be romantic. I wish some guy would do something like that for me." She gave her mother a pleading look. "It's not like Aunt Mary will know the difference between this one and some other one we pick out, anyway."

Carol gave me a stern look, "You're really going to pay twice as much for this basket?"

"Yes," I said confidently, as I fished my pockets for a wallet.

"Alright," she said a little unsure.

I didn't have any cash on me, but after we walked half way around the park to find an ATM, the exchange was made. Afterward, Melissa leaned over to me. "Put some fun inside jokes in it, she'll love that." She whispered before taking off with her mom. "Good luck, dude."

I was hoping it would work, although I wasn't sure how I was going to present it. I wasn't even initially going to buy it and now I spent twice as much as the original price. But it would make Pam happy and that was the point. I started envisioning the suggestion the girl made, putting multiple personal gifts inside the basket and giving it to her for birthday or Christmas. And then it hit me. I had no idea when her birthday was and Christmas was still months off. I suddenly felt strange holding this basket. Was it too much too soon?

I walked towards my car, thinking I'd keep it in the trunk until I decided what to do with it. If I chickened out on giving it to Pam, at least I would have a great gift for my mom or sister at some point.

* * *

In the middle of the park, there stood a fountain. A big silver, circular fountain, layered like a wedding cake, each tier having jets of water spray up in an arch. The fountain was unique because it had been constructed over the stream that wound its way from the north part of the park to the south. An old wooden footbridge rested a good ten feet down stream from the fountain, its only real purpose being aesthetic value since the stream could easily be hopped over. Pam waited for me on the bridge. She faced the fountain, arms resting on the railing, back turned towards me. One foot bounced against a wooden panel.

I silently came beside her, resting my weight on the railing in the same manner that she did. She said nothing, her eyes remaining fixed on the scene sprawled out before us. Dusk had finally come, the sun barely under the trees to our left. The tiny, white lights that illuminated the paths had only recently flickered on. The festival was still very much alive, the buzz of chatter and the occasional trickle of laughter floating around us. In the distance, two little girls played with a ball as their mothers watched happily. Behind them, a group of college age kids exited one of the tents, deep in discussion. I wondered, briefly, if they had come to any of the same conclusions about art that Pam and I had made the day before. Two of the kids, a boy and a girl, broke away from their group to steal a playful kiss. The scene gave me a warm feeling inside.

I turned towards her, examining her profile. I wanted to- I wanted to say so many things, yet my mind was blank. I could say things about art, or the festival, or my article, but they would just be words. In truth, I had been having a hard time focusing on my job all afternoon, my head clouded with all of these other thoughts. Thoughts that had nothing to do with art, or the festival, or my article. Just of her. I was grateful that I had remembered to bring the tape recorder because at some point that evening, I would have to return home and assemble some sort of story out of the mess of interviews and information I had gathered. And it had to be good, because I didn't want to disappoint her.

Her gaze broke away from her surroundings. She became aware that I was focused on her and turned towards me, resting one elbow on the railing. She held an eagerness in her eyes and parted her lips, slightly, as if to comment on some observation that she had made, but said nothing. Instead, she tilted her head and gave me a smile. Not the glowing, energetic smile I had become so preoccupied with over the course of the day, but a sweet, gentle smile, unlike one I had seen before. It was warm. It was welcoming. It was waiting.

I was falling for her. I had fallen for her. I knew that now, very well aware that after only two days, I was pretty much gone.

A soft breeze rustled through her hair and I suddenly felt the longing urge to touch it, run my fingers it through, feel it on my skin. I would not be able to stop my hand, however, and I would continue to gently trace her face, her cheek. Then I would kiss her. It would be soft and sweet and-

I licked my lips unconsciously as the thoughts swirled in my head. I realized I was getting ahead of myself and I should start simple. Start by asking her out. But the task of just that posed to be much a harder problem that I had anticipated. If there were a perfect time to ask, a perfect opportunity, this would be it. The words were caught in the back of my throat, dying to get out, but there was a block there. I couldn't say anything.

It hadn't been this hard before. I knew I could be charming when I wanted to be, and although my track record with women could hardly be called substantial, I had never had this kind of trouble. I thought back to the others. There was Sarah, of course, but that felt like a million years ago and so innocent and childlike. It had been hard to ask then, but that didn't seem to hold the same weight as it did now. Katy had been easy to ask, but there wasn't much to hold on to there. And Karen. But Karen did the asking then. And there were a few others, scattered in between, but none of them made me feel how I felt now.

No, asking then wasn't nearly as hard as asking now. Now was different. The woman standing before me was amazing. She was warm and kind and funny and intelligent. She challenged me in a way those other women hadn't and yet at the same time she was such an easy person to be with. And there was the connection. A connection that ran deep between us, that sparked the moment I met her, and I knew she felt as well.

But it was fear that held me back. An unrelenting fear that had frozen my body and fueled the nagging, doubtful voices in my head, making me afraid to take the chance. The battle raged on, my mind going through all the reasons for and against asking, all the old insecurities arising. My head was screaming, even if my voice was not and as we stared at each other, I wondered if she was having the same battle.

Reason versus emotion. My head against my heart. You've only just met, you barely know her. I know her enough. You're at work. It's inappropriate. It stopped being about work a long time ago. She's recently divorced. A marriage. You've barely sustained any kind of relationship. They weren't worth it. I would have worked harder had it been worth it. How do you even know this one is worth it? I just do. Then what's the real question plaguing you? I don't know. You do. What if she says no? Right, what if she says no? She won't say no. She pushed away before. There were other people watching. What if she says no?

There was no use thinking about it any longer. Rational thought was gone and the only voice left repeated in a quiet chant: Just do it, just do it, just do it, just do it. The window for the perfect opportunity would be closing soon. I had to speak, form any kind of words before the moment slipped by. Or I didn't have to ask anything at all. I could show her how I felt. If I just leaned over and gave her a kiss, she would let me. I could see it in her eyes; she was waiting.

Pam shifted her weight and my heart began to race. My palms were sweaty, but I was gearing up to do it. My breath became heavy, but I had almost broken my self-imposed paralysis. Pam began to turn away. I leaned in.


	7. Green Onions

"PPPAAAAAMMMMM!"

"Oh my god."

"PPPPAAAAAAAAMMMMMMM!"

"I think that's Michael. I think he's hurt."

"PPPPPPPPPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMM!"

You have got to be freaking kidding me.

It was Michael. Under a large tree, only ten feet away, Michael was on the ground crying wildly for Pam. Pam rushed off the bridge immediately to go to his side. I followed, reluctantly, cursing my luck and hoping that this wasn't some sort of sign. When we reached him, Michael was rocking back and forth, resting his weight on his arms, with his legs sprawled out in front of him. There were scattered leaves everywhere and a giant, broken tree branch behind him. As far as I could tell, with the exception of a few, shallow scrapes on his arms, Michael looked fine, but by the loudness of his voice, one would think that he was dying.

I didn't notice Kelly run up until she started speaking. "Oh my god, Michael, I can't believe you did that." She came close to Michael, hunching over to inspect any injuries he might have. "I told you I would be right back, why didn't you wait until I returned? Does it hurt? That looked like it would hurt. Don't worry. We'll do something. We'll get medical help."

"Ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts," Michael chanted.

"Kelly, what happened?" I asked only mildly concerned. I was still a little upset at myself for the missed opportunity on the bridge.

Kelly began to talk so fast that she was barely understandable. "Michael and I went to find Jan. He wanted to do something even more romantic then the song, although the song was totally romantic. It would have been even more romantic had it not been a country song. Seriously, why a country song? Is that all that Michael had in his car? I can't see Jan liking country, she seems more like a soft mid-80's rock type of girl, which would have been totally awesome to see…"

"Kelly, you aren't telling me anything," I interjected.

Pam squatted next to Michael and placed an arm around his shoulders, "Michael, tell us what happened? Where does it hurt?"

"I hurt my leg, I hurt my leg, I hurt my leg," He repeated through cries.

"Is it broken? Where does it hurt?" She was rubbing his back gently, trying to clam him down, but he was still whimpering.

"Yes, it's shattered into a million pieces," He said dramatically.

"I don't think it's shattered in a million pieces, Michael," I said coming closer to inspect the leg. As far as I could tell, there was no blood or sign of outward injury, but he still could have broken it.

"You don't know, you are not a doctor."

"Michael, how did you hurt your leg?" Pam asked concerned.

"Oh, he totally fell out of the tree," Kelly responded quickly.

"He fell out of a tree," I repeated a little in awe.

"I was climbing the tree and branch snapped and I came crashing down," He explained. My eyebrows rose as I pictured the scene. "I landed on one leg and it snapped and now it's broken. I'm going to be paralyzed."

"I don't think you're going to be paralyzed," I said, noticing that he was moving his lower half just fine.

"Well, why were you in a tree, Michael?" Pam asked as if talking to a child.

"I needed to find Jan. So, I thought if I could get to a higher place I could see her." Michael cried.

"So, you fell out of a tree trying to locate your girlfriend?" I said, thinking it was remarkable that this man was able to function on his own.

"Yes, is that so hard to believe," Michael snapped back.

"Um, yeah a little bit," I answered. "You didn't think to just walk around?"

"Oh, we looked everywhere," Kelly added. "And we couldn't find her, so Michael thought the best thing to do was be at a higher elevation so he decided he should climb the tree. I told him he should because the tree near the pavilion had bigger branches, plus it's next to the pavilion where everyone is, so it'd be a better spot. I wanted to go inspect the trees at the north end, but Michael insisted that it'd be this tree, even though the branch totally split when he put his weight on it. And I don't know why he was calling out for Pam when I was just twenty feet away."

Michael's cries began to drown out Kelly's chattering. "Maybe we should carry him," Pam suggested, a little at a loss over what to do.

"I don't think we can move him," I said, trying to keep calm. "If it is broken, we don't want to move it."

"It's broken, it's definitely broken," Michael insisted.

Michael was beginning to attract attention from other people at the festival, including Ryan who just happened to be walking by. "What's going on?" he asked us, though he seemed more concerned with the stares of strangers than he did with Michael. "I could hear Michael screaming from across the park."

"Oh, Ryan, I'm glad you're here," Michael said, throwing out a hand in an attempt to grab him. Ryan made sure he kept his distance. "I broke my leg and you have to carry me to the medical tent. I need to be carried to the medical tent."

"Michael, I'm not carrying you anywhere," Ryan said, now looking at though he wished he had kept on walking.

"Can you walk?" Pam asked. "We need to get you some help, but if you can walk on one leg, we could get you over to the medical tent."

"I can't walk, Pam, it's shattered. My leg is shattered and there's blood everywhere." Michael complained, completely over-exaggerating the situation. At this point, I was hard pressed to believe he had even broken it. "Will you carry me?" He asked Pam. "If Ryan won't carry you will you carry me?"

"I can't carry you Michael," Pam said. "You're going to have to try and walk or else stay here while we get help."

"I can't walk, I can't do anything," Michael wailed. "Get Oscar. Oscar can carry me."

"Oscar went back to the museum," Ryan informed much to Michael's dislike.

"Here, I've got an idea," I said. While it was against my better judgment, I had Ryan get on the other side of Michael and together we lifted him up. He was able to stand, though crying about the pain, and put all of his weight on me, almost causing me to topple over. Ryan pulled Michael towards him, nearly causing Ryan to tip over. Pam ran over to steady him. "Let's just get him over to the medical tent. The sooner he gets help the better for all of us."

Michael made the trip across the park to the medical tent as difficult as possible. His right leg was the one that pained him, but he neglected to sustain any weight on his left leg, so Ryan and I had to support all of his weight and he was much heavier than I anticipated. Pam did what she could, directing us towards the correct tent. Kelly tried to be soothing to Michael, but while she tried to calm him down, she consistently got in front of us blocking our path. Ryan would scream at her to get out of the way, which would often have the opposite effect. When we spotted the medical tent, Pam physically moved Kelly out of the way so that we could race Michael in.

Inside the tent lay a single white cot. Ryan and I brought him over to the cot and dropped him on it. My arms were about to give out and I assume so were Ryan's after carrying him all that way. We both knew that Michael probably was hurt, but after all the squirming around Michael had done, it felt good to just let go.

A woman with red hair and a white coat, presumably the on call paramedic, came over to Michael's side. "What happened?" she asked immediately, while beginning to inspect him.

Michael only let out a moan, so I answered for him. "He fell out of a tree and supposedly hurt his leg."

"Not supposedly," Michael yelled. "It's broken. It hurts so much."

"Well, let's check it out," The redheaded woman said, gently pushing up Michael's pant leg to examine. "I'm Dana and I'm going to take care of you."

"Oh good," Michael said, for the first time sounding a little relieved. "These guys just wanted to leave me there. I was going to die."

"Die, huh?" Dana asked, nice enough to appease him. "Well, they got you here just fine, didn't they…"

"Michael," Michael said, "I'm Michael Scott. I work for the museum and I fell out of a tree and broke my leg."

"Ok, Michael, let's see how bad it is," Dana said kindly. Kelly, Pam, Ryan, and I were crowded around Michael as she did her examination. "As far as I can tell your leg is going to be fine. There are a few minor scrapes here," she pointed to them. "And you might have a minor sprain in your ankle. We can wrap it up and get some ice on it and you'll be just fine. How about I get you some medicine to help the pain?"

"No, I don't need medicine," Michael complained. "I need my foot to heal."

"Please," Ryan begged, "give him some medicine."

"Well, let's get that ankle wrapped, alright?" Dana took off his shoe and sock then went over to the table that held the medical supplies.

While Dana searched for a bandage, Michael waved Pam to come forward. "Pam, I have to talk to you."

Pam gave the rest of us a strange look and went to stand by Michael's side. "What is it?" she asked.

"Come closer," Michael waved at her again. She bent down to reach his eye level. "I need you to go find Jan."

"Michael, I don't know where she is," Pam informed him. "I went to the location of the staff meeting and no one was there. She might have taken Christian back to the museum for their talk."

"No, she'd never leave me," Michael said seriously. "But if I'm going to die here…"

"Michael, you're not going to die," I said rolling my eyes.

"Just- ssshhh…" He waved an annoyed hand at me. "Look, you have to find her and bring her here. She has to know about my condition."

"Michael…" Pam started.

"Just go find her and take Kelly with you," he pleaded. Dana came over and gave him a pack of ice to use while she began to wrap his foot. "I know you don't want to and you think you have so many other things to do, but you know I would do it for you. If you ever fell down a well or something and broke your neck, I would be there for you."

"Fine," Pam gave in, rubbing her forehead. Pam didn't want to find Jan at all, but Michael's persistence eventually wore her down. "Come on Kelly, let's go find Jan." She shot me an apologetic look before she left the tent. Kelly trailed after her, complaining about having to leave.

"Michael, are you sure you don't want any medication?" Dana asked. "You should be fine in a few hours, but it must hurt a bit."

"No, I'll be fine," He assured her. "Your love and tenderness will heal my foot."

"Ah, that's sweet," she responded. "But I really do insist."

"You know, I might have an idea," Ryan said deep in thought. "I will be right back."

"Ryan, can you get me some magazines or something?" Michael called after him, but Ryan had already left the tent. "And some chicken. I want all dark meat chicken."

"I don't think he can hear you," I said. I was very aware that I was the only one left though I had no desire to stick around to pamper Michael.

Dana finished wrapping Michael's ankle, "Looks like you're all set." She said patting his leg lightly. "I suggest you stay here for a little bit, keep the pressure off the leg." There was a tiny beeping sound and Dana checked her pager. "I have to take this, if you don't mind watching him for a minute."

"Sure," I gave a little sigh and grabbed one of the folding chairs that rested against the side of the tent. I didn't intend to stay, but Michael did need someone to watch out for him and I figured it was the least I could do.

* * *

Twenty minutes passed and it remained Michael and I. Dana had yet to return neither had Pam or Kelly. I had hoped that Jan would magically appear so I could leave, but the more I wished for it the less likely it became. Ryan came in for a moment holding a chocolate pudding cup; already open, which he gave to Michael. Michael ate it greedily, like a child, but yelled at Ryan for not getting chicken or magazines. Ryan claimed he would get right on that, but he hadn't been back since. If I had to guess, I'd say there was some sort of medication ground up in that pudding, because not long after Ryan left, Michael complained less about his leg, though, unfortunately, more about everything else.

I never thought taking care of a grown man could prove to be so difficult. Michael complained about everything, from the temperature in the tent to ridiculous ideas for new business ventures. I gave him another pillow and tried to get him to rest, but he was far too antsy to sit still and I believed that nothing short of tying him up would do the trick.

When I wasn't trying to make Michael more comfortable, I sat in the little chair, ignoring Michael's whining, and thought about the moment on the bridge. I really felt like an idiot for not taking my chance, but the more I thought about it the more I wondered if it was better that I hadn't asked. Maybe there was a reason Michael fell from that tree at that moment. Pam and I could just be friends, couldn't we? I got a sinking feeling in my gut that that would be a difficult path to follow. I decided I should just leave it for the moment and let events play out, figuring some answer would present itself. I leaned back in my chair and shut my eyes in an attempt to get a little peace of mind.

"Jim!" Of course, Michael would never let me have that.

"Yup," I said reluctantly pulling myself out of the chair and coming to his side.

"My ice pack, it's melting, I need more ice." He took the blue bag off his ankle and handed it to me.

"Alright, hold on," I said. I put the pack on the table and began to search around for something that could possibly hold ice. I came up empty handed. "I'll have to go to another tent or something," I explained to Michael. "There isn't any ice here."

"No, no," Michael stated quickly.

"Why? Is there something wrong?" I asked.

Michael attempted to sit up, but didn't get very far. The medicine was kicking in and he was becoming drowsy. "No, I don't think so. My leg is feeling better. But I feel tired."

"Then you should stay lying down," I recommended.

"Where's Ryan at? Why isn't he back with the chicken?" he asked, but I didn't have an answer for him. "I know it doesn't take that long to get chicken. There is an excellent restaurant across the street that sells it."

"Do you want me to go look for him?" I asked.

"No, don't go, Jim," Michael pleaded. "I know I've only known you for a day, but you seem like a good guy and I don't want to be alone."

"Alright," I complied. Instead of sitting down, I began to pace back and forth, deep in thought. I couldn't get Pam out of my head and I kept replaying the moment on the bridge over and over, each time having an infinitely better ending than Michael falling out a tree.

Michael began to doze, occasionally waking up with a start. I tried to get him to fall asleep, thinking I could sneak away while he was out, but he seemed to be an incredibly light sleeper.

"Why do you keep doing that?" He asked. His eyes were half shut, but they followed me across the room.

"I just feel like walking," I replied.

"Your walking is making my leg hurt," he complained.

"No, it's not," I replied simply.

"We're friends now," he said, turning on his side to face me. "You can tell me what's bothering you."

"Nothing's bothering me," I assured him.

"Then why are you pacing?"

"Because it's been forty minutes and not a single person has been in this tent," I replied quietly.

"That's not true, Ryan came back," Michael reminded me.

"Michael, why don't you try to sleep," I suggested. "I promise if you do, you'll feel better."

Michael let out a moan, "Oh, I can't sleep. Jim, I think I messed up with Jan bad. I think I lost her forever, Jim." He began to cry and I stopped pacing to stand by his cot. "I just want to work things out with Jan," He said between sobs.

I squatted and patted Michael on the back, "I know you do." As much as Michael had annoyed me today, I couldn't help but feel bad that the guy just couldn't seem to get it right. I let him cry on my shoulder, hoping the outpouring of emotion might finally exhaust him.

But a moment later, Dana finally arrived back in the tent. "How's my favorite patient?" She asked, going directly to his ankle to check it out. "Are you ok? Would you like some medicine?"

"Uh, I think he already has had some," I said, picking up the empty pudding container and throwing it to a nearby trashcan.

Dana nodded, understanding as she unwrapped the bandage. "Well, it looks fine, what happened to the ice pack?"

"Oh, there wasn't any more ice," I explained, pointing to the table where the empty blue bag lay untouched.

"I can go get him some more," She said as she rewrapped his ankle. "Thank you for staying with him. I have an emergency that needs taken care at the north end of the park. All he really needs is some rest and to stay off that ankle."

"I've got it," I assured her, though I wasn't thrilled about the idea of staying here longer.

"Alright, Michael," she said patting his leg lightly. "I think you're going to be fine."

"Are you sure," he was still a little whiney.

"I'm sure," she responded with a smile.

"Dana, I just have one question."

"What's that?"

"Do you always where that coat?" He asked, "or do you have a short little white skirt and hat that slutty nurses sometimes wear?"

"Yeah, that's not appropriate," I said under my breath. It amazed me that just when I thought I had sympathy for him, Michael ruins it by doing something inappropriate.

Dana didn't seem too off put. "Just this uniform," she informed him.

"Hey Dana," Michael cried again, "You wouldn't hurt me right? My girlfriend hurt me. She ripped my heart right out and that's why I climbed that tree. If we were dating, you wouldn't hurt me like that right?"

Dana gave him a smile, "Get some rest Michael." She said before she exited the tent.

"I like her," Michael said.

"I know," I said, pushing on Michael's shoulders. "But now it's time to get some sleep.

"If I wasn't dating Jan, I would go for her," He continued. "Not only is she hot, but she heals people. What is more wonderful than that?"

"Hmmm, not much," I said, trying to get him to lie down.

"Why don't you go for her?" he asked suddenly.

"No, I think I'm alright," I said.

"What, are you gay?" Michael asked with a giggle.

I rolled my eyes, "No."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Is it because of Pam?" Michael said out of nowhere.

"What?" I asked, genuinely shocked that he would ask that.

"I saw the way you were looking at her earlier," Michael said with an unusual amount of perception. I wondered what exactly Ryan put in that pudding. "Do you like her?"

"What, no," I scoffed, my cheeks turned red, completely betraying my feelings.

"It's ok, it can be a secret between the two of us," Michael said excitedly.

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," I said shaking my head, trying to play it cool.

"You can tell me if you like her, it's not like I have anyone to tell," Michael goaded. "Would you really be this defensive if you didn't?"

I blinked a couple of times, amazed at the words flowing from this clueless man. "I, um," I took a deep breath. I couldn't hold it in any longer and even if it was Michael, a questionable confidant at best, I had to let someone know how much I felt for Pam. "I know I've only known her for, like, a day, but I- she's just wonderful, Michael."

"I know, she is very hot," Michael commented, "She's got nice boobs, nice legs…"

"No, that's not what-," I shook my head. While I couldn't argue his point, I wanted to make clear that Pam's physical attributes weren't the only things I liked about her. "She's a wonderful person, Michael. She's sweet and kind and warm-" I stopped, engulfed in my own thoughts. "And she has a great sense of humor."

Michael jeered, "Oh please, I've known her for years. She does not have a good sense of humor." Somehow, I wasn't surprised to hear Michael say that.

"Yeah, well, your judgment is debatable," I muttered. "You did climb a tree to find a girl."

"Well, if you like her so much, you should just tell her," Michael advised in a strangely calm and normal voice.

"I don't even know if she's interested," I said honestly.

"How are you going to know if you don't try?" Michael asked and for a moment, I thought I saw a little bit of wisdom in his eyes.

"Huh," I said, thinking that Michael might actually have a point.

"Don't give up," Michael continued, "Step up and be a man. That's what I did with Jan."

"Sure you did," I said, Michael missing my sarcasm.

"Hey," it was Pam who had just entered the tent; she tapped me on the shoulder, which had made me jump. "How is he?"

"I'm fine, Pam," Michael said, not wanting to be ignored. "Where's Jan? Did you find her? Did you tell her what I did?"

"Michael, I don't know where she is," Pam said, kneeling beside me to console Michael. "Kelly and I looked everywhere. Kelly's still looking, but I came to tell you that I don't think she's here right now."

Michael didn't seem too upset by this information. Instead, he glanced over at me and raised his eyebrows a few times. "I think now's the time," he whispered.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, letting out a nervous laugh. I certainly wasn't going to do anything with Pam in front of Michael."

Michael sat up, "Come on Jim, do it."

"What's he talking about?" Pam asked curiously.

"Nothing, he's delusional," I said, pushing him back down, "and he needs rest."

"I don't need rest," Michael said, struggling to get up again. "You're being stupid if you don't just tell her."

"Tell me what?" Pam eyed me suspiciously.

"He thinks you're hot," Michael blurted with a giggle. "And he's too scared to tell you."

"Michael!" I said, embarrassed that Michael would break confidentially and act so childishly. I would have said more, but I was too anxious to hear her reaction to say anything else.

"Oh, right," She said rolling her eyes. She didn't believe him. "He probably thinks you're hot too."

"No really, he told me…"

"Hey, I thought those drugs were kicking in." I said, pushing him back down again. "Really, Michael you need to rest."

"I didn't have any drugs," Michael argued.

"Yeah, you did, now just lie down and think of happy things.

I said. "Hey, you haven't complained about your leg in a bit. You must be feeling better."

"Yeah, I am feeling better," Michael said closing his eyes. "I think am sleepy, too."

"Yup," I said, thankful that Michael was finally winding down. Michael curled up on his side, with his eyes shut. Pam and I waited a few minutes until we heard snoring to conclude that he had actually fallen asleep.

"We should probably move," I suggested. "He's a light sleeper, though he seems to be out now." We went to the edge tent opening, keeping an eye on Michael. His breathing was slow and rhythmic and he looked peaceful asleep.

"Yeah, I couldn't find Jan," Pam explained. "But even if I did, I'm not sure she would come."

"That's a shame," I said. "He seems to truly care for her."

Pam gave me shrug, "Michael's always been a little desperate and Jan- I wouldn't say it's the best match."

Pam and I stared at each other for a moment. "Hey Pam, uh, about what Michael said earlier…"

"You know what," Pam cut in. "He makes things up all the time. He's an instigator, so you don't need to apologize or anything."

"No, actually," I was having a hard time getting out the words. "Michael didn't entirely make it up, I mean, when we first met-"

"Yeah, I understand," she cut in again. "But, I'd like to think we're friends now, so it's, like, no big deal. And really, who hasn't thought that about a friend like that every once in a while."

"Yeah," my heart sank. Was friendship all she wanted? Had I misread something somewhere? "Um, yeah, I guess you're right and I've noticed Michael blows things out of proportion anyway, so-"

Neither of us spoke for a moment. I debated telling her the truth, but if all she wanted was to be friends, then I didn't want to ruin that, even if it was a struggle for me.

"So, is this awkward now or something?" She seemed unsure as she spoke.

"Oh yeah, can't you feel the tension," I said, trying to make light of the situation to hide what I really felt. "Actually, I think everyone that I interview is hot. I have a very specific screening system."

She gave me a friendly smile, "So, we're cool."

"We're cool," I returned her smile. "And Pam, I do think we're friends, so really, it's no big deal."

She nodded, though her smile faded into a frown and she turned away. Before I could determine what she was thinking Kelly and Ryan returned to the tent.

"We couldn't find her," Kelly announced they came to our side.

Pam raised her eyebrows, "We?"

Ryan gave a smirk as he peeked into the tent to see Michael still asleep, "Oh, looks likes my experiment worked."

* * *

"So, I need to get the pavilion ready for the speaker," Pam said to us. Michael still slept soundly and none of us wanted to disrupt him. "Um, Ryan, Kelly can one of you guys help me set up the chairs."

"I can help too, if you need me," I offered.

"Jim, you don't have to do that," Pam said.

Kelly had another suggestion, "Why doesn't Jim just interview me for the paper and you and Ryan can go set up chairs."

"You just want to get out of doing work," Ryan accused. "You take any excuse not to help out…"

"Oh, like you helped with the basket weaving," Kelly shot back.

"Look, who ever wants to do an interview is fine by me," I said, not really wanting to hear the two of them fight again.

"Fine, I'm doing it," Kelly said definitively.

"Actually, I'd like to do it," Ryan said, "I'm the one that has a master's degree in art history and you haven't even finished your bachelor's. Who do you think is more qualified to talk about art?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, who is the intern for the museum?" Kelly taunted, "That would be me. And, wait, I forgot what you do. Oh, that's right, you work in the gift shop. So, who do you think is more qualified? Yeah, I'm doing the interview."

Pam rolled her eyes, "Ryan, will you please help me? Kelly can do the interview. Believe me, it will get done faster that way."

Ryan let out a sigh, but complied anyway. We all headed out to the pavilion. Ryan and Pam began to clear the tables from the basket weaving as Kelly and I took a seat at a nearby picnic table to conduct the interview.

"Are you sure you don't want any help?" I asked as Ryan and Pam made their way past us carrying a table.

"Jim, having your here makes my job so much less boring, but really," Pam insisted. "Do your interview, I promise it's much more interesting than hauling chairs and tables around."

Hearing her say that was reassuring. I smiled a little and turned my attention back to Kelly, who was waiting to start. "So, Kelly," I said. "How'd you get into art?"

Kelly didn't hesitate, "When I was younger my parents bought me these finger paints. And I would paint all the time, like finger paints and oil paints, and colored pencils, which, I know, aren't paints, but they were still pretty awesome because they had these sparkle things in them which made the pictures shiny when they came out, but when I was seven, my parents got me these regular kind of colored pencils and they just weren't the same. They weren't the same, Jim. I mean, how was I supposed to color when my pictures weren't sparkly…"

I rested my head on my hand, thinking that Kelly would probably haven nothing relevant to add to the article. Part of me wondered if Pam had stuck with me Kelly purposely.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to be writing this down?" Kelly snapped.

"Oh, right," I pulled out the tape recorder, set on the table, and pretended to turn it on. Kelly didn't even notice and continued to talk about everything but art.

Pam came by, lugging rack of chairs, stopping when she reached our table. "You know, I have decorated this pavilion, like, five times since the festival started. I think I could have a career in a very specific type of decorating." She grinned before starting out again, "Alright, you guys have fun."

"Oh, I totally wanted to be an interior decorator when I was younger," Kelly started again. "I mean, I have these closets that are the dumbest thing, they can't hold any of my hangers. I mean, aren't all closets supposed to hold every kind of hanger size? It's making my life difficult because I am forced to leave my stuff on the floor, then I have to walk around the piles and search for the clothes that I need, and my clothes get wrinkled, then I need to iron them, which takes up so much more time than if I could just hang them up. Or why can't they make hangers all a universal size? I mean, who comes up with this stuff?"

Part of me wanted to ask what that had to do with interior decorating and another part wanted me to tell her just to buy smaller hangers, but I figured that would start a debate that I didn't want to get into. Instead, I spotted a newspaper on the end of the picnic table and pulled it over. There was a partially done Sudoku puzzle on top and I started working on in, pretending to take notes on what she was saying.

Pam came by a few minutes later. She glanced over my shoulder to see what I was doing. I was afraid she was going to call me out on not listening, but instead she bent over and whispered softly in my ear. "You can put the four in that bottom box." I looked up at her, amused. "Yeah, I'm a Sudoku expert," she bragged, "My top time, level moderate 18 minutes, so suck on that, Halpert." I laughed as she walked away.

Kelly had moved on to clothing. "And I just bought this totally awesome new dress that is pink and low cut, but not too low cut, I mean I'm not a slut." I took a second to examine what she was wearing, a rather low cut, pink, flowery dress. I wondered if she realized she was describing the outfit she was wearing or if her entire wardrobe consisted of slutty pink dresses. "Really, Jim, I don't do that. I mean, I'm not a virgin by any means, but I won't just sleep with any guy. Unless he's totally hot…"

Pam dragged another chair rack by and again stopped beside the table "Hey guys." She said, rocking on her heels.

"Sure you don't need help with that?" I asked quickly.

"No, I just want to wait a second before going up there. Jan is back and it looks like she isn't happy." Kelly and I turned our attention towards the pavilion where, indeed, Jan was screaming at a scared Ryan over who knows what. It only lasted a minute or so before she stormed off the pavilion. "Thanks, I hate being in the middle of Jan's rants, especially when they aren't directed at me."

"I can't believe how crazy Jan is acting today," Kelly said as Pam began pushing her chairs towards the pavilion. I pulled up the paper again, concentrating on the one box that was being particularly tricky. "She's usually not like this, I mean she is crazy over all, but this festival has her worked up more than ever. Ryan probably deserved it though. He usually does. Oh, I can't believe my boss is dating her assistant. I mean, of course, I would never date someone like Michael, but I can totally see why Jan would. She is such a sad woman and I don't understand how such a beautiful woman could seem so sad, but she is so that's why she's dating Michael. And they have such a sad relationship. I can't believe Michael tried to be romantic then fell out of a tree. They're so tragic. They're like Romeo and Juliet, the Claire Danes one. That movie totally reminded me of when my sister died…"

I had zoned Kelly out to concentrate on my puzzle so I didn't notice Pam behind me until she rested a hand on my shoulder for balance, proceeding to take off her shoe and shake it. "I have a thing in my shoe. When you were younger, did you ever come up with names for stuff like that? I know we did, I just don't remember the name."

"We usually called it a rock," I joked.

She put her shoe back on, then playfully hit my arm, "I'm almost done."

Kelly seemed speechless for the moment.

"What?" I asked when she wouldn't stop staring at me.

"You totally like her."

"What…no." Was I completely transparent to everyone?

"You totally are. Jim, why didn't you tell me you had a crush on Pam?" She looked at me as if it hurt that I didn't divulge all my personal secrets. "It's so obvious now. You totally want her. I can see it in your eyes. Unfortunately she doesn't feel the same way about you."

"Really?" I said. She had perked my interest more than I wanted to let on.

"Oh, yeah, but she only dates big guys like her ex-husband. Pam was so in love with him and it was so shocking to hear that they got divorced. He was a linebacker for his high school football team, a big guy, totally built. He could so crush you if he wanted to. I mean, you are rather scrawny and your hair flips out weird. Seriously, don't you own a comb? Anyway, I have this totally awesome guy I want to set her up with…"

I wasn't sure if there was an insult in there, but I did conclude that Kelly had no idea what she was talking about. Judging by the way Pam acted yesterday when her ex showed up, she wasn't sorry about the divorce.

"So, do you want me to ask her out for you?" Kelly asked, anxious to do so.

"Please, don't do that," I said amazed at how quickly she went from telling me I wasn't Pam's type to wanting to ask her out for me. However, this wasn't elementary, if any one was going to do the asking, it would be me.

"Oh, but I should. I mean, when I first liked Ryan, I totally couldn't ask him out and I had to have a friend ask him for me because I wouldn't do it, but then my friend said he was into me, so it was totally easy. And we went on a date and he was such a gentleman, but he didn't kiss me at first, and I was wondering, 'Ryan, why aren't you kissing me?' and then he kissed me, so I said 'Ryan, I can't believe you just kissed me…"

I suddenly felt very bad for Ryan. He probably kissed her to shut her up. I rubbed my head feeling a headache coming on from Kelly's persistent chatter. So, instead of listening to Kelly ramble on about her relationship with Ryan, I watched Pam up at the pavilion. Ryan was noticeably absent and it bugged me a bit that Pam was setting up the rows of chairs by herself. I watched as Jan came back, pulling Pam aside. She wasn't yelling at Pam like she did Ryan, but Pam had a serious look on her face, nodding at Jan's words.

"Hey, Kelly, I think the interview is over," I stopped Kelly in mid-sentence.

"Are you sure?" Kelly asked, "I haven't even told you about my favorite pieces in the show."

"I've got enough, thank you." I grabbed my tape recorder and left a stunned Kelly at the picnic table. As I made my way to the pavilion, Jan left, not acknowledging me as we passed each other. I grabbed a chair out of one of the racks and opened it up. "I'm gonna help, it's what I do."

She smiled, "Thanks, Ryan skipped out of here pretty quick. Apparently, he was trying to help grill something over at the Food Tent earlier and started a grease fire, which scorched the top of the tent. We've rented all these tents, so yeah, Jan wasn't happy about that because we have to pay for damages."

"Oh, that's not good," I said as I reached for another chair. "So what did Jan have to say to you?"

Pam was straightening my row, "Oh, she just wanted to tell me about how the meeting with Christian went. She said that without Michael there, things did go a lot smoother and he's going to do what he can to help us out." She stopped straightening and leaned on one of the chairs, giving me a half smile. "She also said that she's happy about the job I've been doing and that after the speech is done, I can go home without having to clean up."

"Pam, that's awesome," I complimented.

"I know, Jan never praises me on anything, so it's a really big deal," she said happily. "Plus, I get to go home without having to clean anything up for a change, so that's nice."

"Really, good for you," I said as I took another chair from the rack and placed it in line.

"So, how did the interview with Kelly go?"

"Do you have some sort of secret conspiracy against me going on?" I joked. "Because that a mind numbing experience. And what is with all of your coworkers being insane?"

"They're not so bad," Pam said, though I'm sure she could commiserate. "They're not crazy, they're just quirky."

"And they've got you defending them," I teased. "I think you've worked at the museum too long Beesly."

"Oh, right, 'cause Dwight is normal," she shot back.

"Alright, I'll give you that one," I responded.

We both laughed a little, letting it die into a noticeable silence. Here we were again, that strange tension between us. The push and pull of it was driving me crazy and didn't know how long I would be able to hold out on being just friends, not when I was dying to cross the line that friendship makes.

I knew it wouldn't be long before something gave, but I promised myself to wait until after the speech. One final event then I would wrap up my article, she would be done with the festival for the day and then it would be a more appropriate time to discuss personal matters. A few more hours then, I could tell her how I felt. I worried that if I made any sort of move earlier, the timing would be off, but I had to know. I didn't care if she thought we were only friends or that there was the possibility that she didn't feel the same way. If I didn't try, then I would always be left wondering. Only a few more hours.


	8. Handbags and Gladrags

Pam and I continued to set up chairs for the speech. There were few words spoken between us as we mechanically pulled each chair off the rack and placed it into rows that spanned the pavilion. We had put out a good two hundred chairs and I hoped as many would arrive for the speech. Pam continued to work diligently, but I slowed my pace, watching her as she made sure the chairs were aligned in a perfect straight line. The longer I waited to ask her out, the more difficult it became. More reasons for her saying no jumped into my head, so, while the question was at the tip of my tongue, I asked another.

"Um, so tell me about this speaker, who is he again?" I asked. She had briefly spoken about him earlier, but I was still unsure as to who he was.

She placed a final chair down before answering. "Well, his name is Jack Riggle- Captain Jack Riggle actually. He was this captain in the navy during Desert Storm and after he got out, he decided to go into art. He's from Scranton originally, but has been quite a success in Philadelphia between his metal work and clay sculpting."

"Do you know what he's speaking about today or-"

"I have no idea," she responded. "But, I'm really looking forward to it. His wife, Brenda, was an art teacher at the college where I went back to school. I had her for one of my classes. She works mostly with acrylics and oil paints, but sometimes she works with pencil. Her stuff was all over the walls of the college art building. Anyway, she had to speak with my professor as well, so while we waited, we chatted a bit. She said the most inspiring thing anyone has ever said to me." She paused, a wistful look in her eye.

"What was that?" I asked.

"I was struggling with this one project," she continued. "I told her that I loved art, but sometimes felt it was only a hobby, that I didn't feel like I could make a career out of it. She told me that if I really loved it, that I shouldn't be scared to try finding a way to make art and a career work. There are a million reasons that I'll find not to do something, but taking the chance on yourself and following your dreams takes courage. That always stuck with me, you know? I held that thought with me when I applied for the museum and eventually when I was able to leave my husband."

"Wow, she sounds great," I said. It was clear how influential this woman had been in Pam's life by the glow in her eyes. "Why isn't she speaking?"

"I don't know," Pam said, tilting her head to think about it. "I mean, we asked her, but she said she'd be out of town at the time. Funny that her husband didn't go with her. I guess it doesn't matter, because she always spoke so highly of her husband and if he speaks anything like his wife it will be great."

"So," I started curiously as I grabbed another chair, only a few more rows before we covered the entire pavilion. "Why didn't you take her advice and follow a career in art? I mean, I know you work for an art museum and the position opened right up for you, but don't you ever want to go back to creating art?"

She looked at me strangely, as if not able to comprehend what I was getting at. "This woman helped me move forward in my personal life," she said a tad defensively. "I know being in public relations isn't the most glamorous life style, but it's a steady job that I'm getting to be confident in. I don't really want to throw that away on a gamble of the possibility of an art career. I mean, I have to be practical, Jim and following a pipe dream as an artist isn't really practical."

That didn't sound like the Pam I had spent all day with. I got the feeling that someone had had this conversation with her before. "Well, how do you know what's right unless you've tried it?" I asked. "You said yourself, there's a million reason not to do something. Have you ever tried taking a chance with your art?"

Pam didn't take my words to be as kindhearted as I had hoped. Instead, she aggressively took another chair from the rack and unfolded it. "Jim, I'm happy with my job. Really. Art is just- this hobby that I enjoy, but have never seriously considered as a career option. You know, I spent a lot of time being told what to do and I'm just now figuring out where I want to be in my life-"

"Pam, I'm sorry," I said sincerely, trying to fix the damage I had done. "I didn't mean to imply anything, I just-" I just wanted to encourage her to live the best possible life, I finished in my head. I wanted to support her ideas. I wanted to help her grow. But I had momentarily forgotten my place. I was a reporter. She was public relations. The line had been drawn.

"I know you didn't," Pam said, her voice softer than the moment before. She gave me a shrug. "Sometimes actually starting your life over isn't as easy as it sounds," she explained. "You said you've been in Scranton your whole life. Is there ever anything you've wanted to chase after, Jim? Or are you content with the way things are?"

It's hard to chase after dreams when you don't have any. Truth was, I've always been satisfied with my choice to come back to Scranton after college. I had the job that I had always wanted, still kept in touch with the same old guys, never had a steady girlfriend, but my luck might be changing there if I ever got up the nerve to change the status quo. I guess my life had always been stable and maybe I took that for granted, but it didn't mean I couldn't want her to go after something she wanted to do.

"I think it's a different situation, Pam," I started. "If I had anything to go for I probably would-"

Pam's cell cut me off. She pulled it out of her pocked, scrunched her nose when she read the name and hit a little button on the side to cease the ringing. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?" she asked as she put the phone back in her pocket. No sooner had she pushed it in, the phone rang again. She rolled her eyes when she read the screen again and let out an annoyed sigh. "I'm sorry, I have to take this," she said as she flipped open the phone.

She turned away from me before she started speaking. "What?" I noticed that there was no kind greeting. "I told you, please stop calling, I don't want to talk…Because I don't think there's any else to say…no don't come here, I'll-…Alright, alright, if you can keep your end of the bargain, at the end of the week, I'll come visit you…Ok…Ok…bye." She slammed the phone shut and looked a little lost. She leaned onto one of the chairs for support.

"You ok?" I asked coming closer.

"Yeah, it's just- Roy," she said shaking her head. "He's been calling me for a while, I think I should just go see what he wants."

"Well, is that a bad or- dangerous thing?" I remembered clearly how she hid from him yesterday.

"No," she answered slowly, "It's just that- He won't let it go. Granted, three months ago, he was barging into my apartment at unwanted times, so at least he's calling now, but I've worked so hard on putting that part of my life behind me and- I don't know, I just don't want to deal with it any more."

I desperately wanted to put my arm around her to comfort her, but instead we stood there silently.

* * *

"Hi, Pam," came a sweet voice, breaking our silence. It was Phyllis, walking past the pavilion with a very large, chocolate brown Teddy bear on her back, "Hi, Mr. Halpert," she nodded at me, smiling kindly.

"Hey, Phyllis," Pam said warmly as she walked towards her. "What do you have there?"

Phyllis slid the bear off her back and onto the ground, blushing a little when she looked at it, "It's from my boyfriend, Bob Vance of Vance Refrigeration." She explained looking positively giddy over.

Pam's eyes widened, "I didn't even know you were dating."

"Oh, yes," Phyllis said, her grin widening. "Do you remember that Christmas Party we had last year? Well, Bob was visiting a friend, Tom, you know the Preparator who works on the second floor." Pam nodded. "Well, he set us up. I thought that I was past that point in my life where I'd ever find someone, but he's such a sweet man. And hot too." She had no reservations about stating that out loud.

"Well, good for you," Pam said, not sure what to say.

"Anyway, it's my birthday and Bob has been sending me things all day," she explained, looking down at the bear.

"Happy birthday," Pam and I said in unison.

"Thanks guys," She said, turning a deeper shade of red. "He's already sent me candy and chocolates and flowers. This morning he gave me perfume that he purchased in Metro Orlando. He was at a refrigerator convention." She held out her arm for Pam and I to sniff.

Pam and I exchanged awkward looks before both leaning into to take a whiff of Phyllis's new perfume. One deep breath of Phyllis's scent was enough to make me nearly vomit. It smelled like a mix between sweat, smog, and floor cleaner. I forced a smile on my face, "Nice."

Pam scrunched her noise, but managed to get out the word, "Musty," in the most complementary tone she could manage.

Phyllis didn't seem to notice our bad reaction. "I think it brings out my wild, feminine side," Phyllis purred. I wasn't sure how to take that and didn't ask.

"It definitely brings something out," Pam said, taking a step back from Phyllis.

"How's the interview going?" Phyllis asked, with a smile and a wink towards Pam.

Pam pretended not to notice, "Oh, it's great. We'll be getting a good story out of it."

"Oh, I'm sure you will," Phyllis assured as her eyes lingered on me. Suddenly, she didn't seem like a sweet lady anymore. There was a dark look in her eyes and it made me slightly uneasy that this older woman had no shame in checking me out, especially with Pam standing right there, especially when she had a boyfriend who didn't hesitate to buy her anything imaginable.

"Um, do you need help with that?" I offered, pointing to the bear, anything to change the subject.

"Oh, thank you," Phyllis said breaking off her stare, "Would you mind taking it my car? It's just out in the parking lot. We have a few minutes before the speech starts."

"Not at all," I responded and the three of us traipsed out to the parking lot, a short walk away. Phyllis and Pam chatted about the turnout of the festival while I lugged the bear, a step behind them. Phyllis's car was at the front of the lot and it she opened the trunk so I could place the bear on the layer of flowers, boxes of chocolate and candy that filled the bottom of her trunk.

"Wow," Pam commented when she peaked at the gifts, right before I squished the bear in. Phyllis didn't seem to care that I had to distort the stuffed animal, possibly permanently creasing it, to get the trunk to shut. "You weren't kidding about the gifts."

"I told you he was a sweet guy," She said with a smile. "Well, thank you both. I'm going to be taking off now. Jan let me have the evening off so that Bob Vance can take me to that new Indian restaurant up on fourth. He also got me this new book about the Kama Sutra so afterwards-"

"Alright, Phyllis," I said, giving her a pat on the back. I think that was one conversation I never needed to have.

Pam's concentration had been turned to other places. "Jan's let you out early this evening?"

"Oh yeah," Phyllis replied. "I asked for it off weeks ago."

"She said I could go early too," Pam said in disbelief. "Who's taking care of clean up?"

"My guess would be Ryan, Kelly, and Angela," Phyllis said, she leaned towards us, as if adding some big secret, her potent perfume engulfing us again. "Angela's going to be pissed, but I don't really care because ever since her cat died she's been bitchier than usual."

"Maybe I should stay," Pam contemplated.

"I should get going," Phyllis said, unlocking the front door to her car. She gave me a twisted smile, "And nice meeting you Mr. Halpert." She ran one hand slowly down my arm, stopping a moment to squeeze my hand. It gave me an uncomfortable shiver.

"Bye Phyllis," I said, glad that she was finally getting in the car. We both waved as she took off.

"Um, should I worry that she sort of just hit on me?" I asked as we started back towards the pavilion.

Pam let out a laugh. "I think she's harmless, mostly."

"Mostly is not reassuring."

"Eh," Pam said with a shrug. "I can't believe how wonderful her boyfriend is. Did you see all that stuff in the back of her car?"

"Well, some of us do go overboard," I said thinking of the basket that currently hid in the trunk of my own car. "But I'm sure he is well intending."

"Yeah, I guess I'm just not used to it," Pam explained, "I mean on my birthday, Roy would get me something cheap like a sweater, that usually didn't fit or something that he had my mom pick out. Then he'd give me a card with a coupon in it for the best sex ever." She stopped in her tracks, blushing when she realized her words. "I can't believe I just said that," she said, putting a hand to her mouth.

I let out a laugh, knowing that her ex-husband was a complete loser somehow made me feel a little better. "It's alright," I said. "What are friends for?"

She gave me an odd look, which quickly turned into a half smile. "Yeah," she stated simply. "Let's get up to that speech."

* * *

By the time Pam and I made our way back to the pavilion, there was already a line formed of patiently waiting people. Kelly sat behind a table situated at the front of the line. People were getting antsy as they waited for Kelly to start taking their money for tickets.

"Kelly, why haven't you started letting people sit down?" Pam asked as we walked up to the table.

"No one was here to give the ok," Kelly responded. "Do you want me to start taking money?"

"Yes," Pam said, a little frustrated. "Where's Captain Riggle?"

"Who?"

"The speaker, he was supposed to be here by now," Pam explained. "Is he with Jan?"

"I haven't seen Jan in a while," Kelly said as she waved the first person forward to take their money and give them a ticket.

"Well, where's Ryan or Angela?" Pam asked, rubbing her head. She was beginning to look worried.

"I don't know where Angela is," Kelly said, handing a woman and her daughter a couple of tickets. "Ryan is with Michael in the medical tent because you guys bailed on him. Seriously, that wasn't cool, Michael's still in a lot of pain. But Ryan can deal with it. I had to go wandering around with him looking for trees to climb."

"I don't care about that right now," Pam said, she looked up at me panicked and I shrugged my shoulders, not knowing what to tell her.

"Hey, isn't Phyllis supposed to be here helping me do this?" Kelly asked, annoyed as she grabbed money out of an elderly man's hand.

"Um, I think she just left," I informed Kelly.

"What?" She screeched, making the old man jump back. "That old wench skipped out."

"It's her birthday," I offered.

"Oh please," Kelly went on, completely ignoring the young couple that came forward next. "She thinks she's all great because that fridge dude will buy her anything-"

"Kelly," Pam interrupted, "We have to find the speaker. Are you sure no one has come up to you saying that he's the speaker? A man named Captain Riggle. Captain Jack Riggle?"

"God, Pam, chill out," Kelly said, as if this were no big deal. "You are so bumping your real age ten years. And when are you going to let me figure out your real age for you? I've been bugging you about that forever. Seriously, Pam, you have some serious wrinkles going on and the real age test I took will help you."

Pam was blocking Kelly out, instead pacing back and forth, arms across her chest, biting a fingernail. "Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked, thinking it was pointless to just stand here. "Do you want me to try and find him?"

"You don't know what he looks like," she said. She stopped pacing to give me a serious look. "Do you think you can stall them for a few minutes?"

"Stall?" I asked, not sure if I was hearing her right.

"Yeah," she took a deep breath in. "I can go find him and you just stop people from leaving."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said rubbing her forehead, "Will you just please-"

"Yeah, go," I insisted. I had no idea what I was going to do, but Pam was so worried that I feared she was going to go crazy if she wasn't able to take off. The minute I told her I would, she sprinted towards the entrance of the park.

I went up to the podium. Crowds didn't usually make me nervous, but I was very aware that I currently stood in front of nearly one hundred anxiously waiting festival-goers. The pavilion was half full and the line in front of Kelly didn't look like there was an end to it. A few of the faces looked familiar and I realized that a few of these people were in the same crowd when Michael and I were up here dancing and acting like idiots singing to 'Islands in the Stream'. I suddenly felt very self-conscious.

"Is this working?" I asked into the mike. I didn't think it was, so I tapped it a few times. The mike squeaked, making the people in the front row jump back. "Sorry about that." I said, my tinny sounding voice reverberated around the pavilion. "My name is Jim Halpert." The audience stopped its chatter to focus on me. "Uh, I am not, uh, the speaker tonight. He's- he's not here at the moment." Pam was nowhere to be seen and I couldn't stop stumbling over my words. "I'm not even part of the museum- not apart of the museum staff. I'm actually a reporter, from the Scranton Times." The audience wasn't amused. "Don't worry, Mr. Riggle, I mean Captain Riggle will be here shortly. So, art is…cool."

In the distance, I could finally see Pam racing across the grounds accompanied by a middle-aged, dark-haired, casually dressed man. "I am here to introduce Mr.- I mean Captain Riggle," I said out stretching my hand in their direction. The crowd wasn't sure whether to applaud or not, so there were a few staggered claps.

Pam and the man I assumed was Captain Riggle reached the pavilion. Captain Riggle jumped on the stage and pushed me out of the way without a word. I left the stage to stand next to Pam, who had stopped at the sound controls to catch her breath. As the crowd applauded the speaker, Pam ushered me to follow her around the chairs and to the back of the pavilion. There were a few empty seats in the next to last row.

"What happened?" I whispered in a hurry.

"I don't know," she said back, shaking her head. "We didn't talk, I just found him and ran over here."

"Art," Riggle began. I had anticipated some sort of introduction, but he just started talking with a harsh, loud voice, causing everyone in the audience, especially those who weren't paying attention, to sit up straight. "What is art?" he asked while the crowd remained silent. "You may think that art is a simple reflection of the mind's eye, but it is not." He used his hands to illustrate the points he was making. "Art is an exquisite, physical, tangible, expression of thoughts too provocative, too emotional to describe using the mere words of a language. And real art, yes real art, is by far and away the crown jewel, the most sensual, the top of all the art."

My jaw dropped a little. After everything Pam had told me I hadn't expected a speech that sounded so bizarre. I wanted to joke with Pam about how pompous the guy was sounding, going on about the wonders of true art, but she was hunched forward a little, one hand clutching the chair, trying hard to concentrate on the guy's speech, so I decided it best not to say anything at all. Even if it wasn't my cup of tea, maybe these people were getting something out of it.

"…I don't expect the common person to understand true art," Riggle was saying. Part of me believed he was making this up on the spot. "To understand true art you must have a firm understanding, an embedded natural knowledge of how each and every little thing, object, emotion is connected to each other. The true artist captures that in a single moment but cannot do its beauty justice. Instead, we true artists struggle through art to form meaning and bind what cannot be bound, define what does not want to be defined only to fail at producing the mere thing we were trying to create…"

The rest of the speech continued in the same vein, a long, drawn out, love letter to 'true art' and it's purpose, and while I credit his intentions, the militant style and shunning of every other type of work seemed a bit obnoxious. As a writer, even if it was journalism, the preaching that his type of art was the only 'true' type of art was a little hard to swallow.

I had a hard time concentrating the first hour, between his wordy descriptions of what real art is and how it compares to what people do on a regular basis, he began to lose me. I wasn't the only one, apparently, because when I looked around, I saw many people shifting uncomfortably in their seats, a few with their heads resting on their hands, forcing them to pay attention.

By the second hour, he had completely lost me. He delved into technical art speak that was much higher than my level of comprehension. For a moment I caught a few names I recognized when he began his comparison between classical art to new art, but all the art I learned as a kid was what I had to go off of and his discussion of even the famous artists was beyond me.

I wasn't the only one having a hard time. Besides a few intent listeners, Pam being one of them, the rest of the audience was shifting around, a few of them whispering amongst each other. Captain Riggle was so engrossed in his words that he wasn't even aware what was going on. Being in the back, I noticed a few people sitting on the sides of the pavilion sneak off. Kelly had attended for only ten minutes before she found something better to do. I knew it wasn't my problem, but I worried, for the museum's sake, about people demanding their money back.

By the time Riggle was wrapping up, I had slumped down in my chair, forcing myself to keep awake. Occasionally, I would sneak a glance over at Pam, who had a very grim look on her face. She eyed me back a few times, but never said a word, just turned her head quickly in the other direction.

"…and that is the true meaning of art," Captain Riggle came to an abrupt stop.

He stood at the podium for a moment or so, hands clutched on the sides of it, looking as if he were to be ill. The audience wasn't sure how to respond, so there was only a scattered applause. Pam pursed her lips and shook her head, but did not say a word. After a moment's silence, the crowd began to stand, everyone stretching their legs from the tedious talk, and filtered out of the pavilion before the guy was even off the stage.

Pam bolted up to reach the guy before he could go very far, me quick on her heels.

"Captain Riggle," she called out as he came off the podium. We had to fight against a flow of people headed off the pavilion, which made it difficult to get to the speaker. "Captain Riggle!" He didn't hear her so I called out his name.

"I don't do autographs," he barked as we approached him.

I held out a hand, blocking his path. "No, I'm Jim Halpert from the Scranton Times-"

"I don't do press either," he interrupted.

"I'm Pam Beesly, I'm PR for the museum," Pam jumped in, trying to be as kind as possible. "I walked you over here?"

He squinted his eyes for a second, trying to place her. "Oh," he finally said, though his tone didn't change. "Do you have any water, my voice is sore after talking for two hours straight." It bothered me how rude this man was being, excellent artist or not.

"Um, well, I don't have any right here, but if you don't mind coming with me to our Food Tent, we'd be happy to get you some food and drink," Pam explained.

"Don't bother," he said rolling his eyes. "I have to be going anyway."

"Wait, you're not going to stay?" Pam asked hurriedly.

"I have to be at the airport in an hour," He said harshly, "I'm going to Australia, then off to New Zealand. I'm going to walk the 'Lord of the Rings' trail. It's the one thing I've always wanted to do and now I have the time to do it."

Pam looked at him confused, "Oh, alright," she finally said. "Are you going with your wife?"

He looked up at her, irritated that she'd even bother with that question, "We got a divorce." He said sharply. "I'm sorry I couldn't be much better, Ms. Beesly," his tone softening only slightly when he saw Pam's shocked face. "But I can only say what I have to give and right now, it's not a lot." With that he went on his way, leaving Pam speechless.

I came over to her and put a hand gently on her back, hesitant about doing so, but I just wanted to comfort her. "Pam, I'm so sorry, I-" I wanted to say the right thing, but nothing helpful was coming to mind. Instead, I slipped my arm fully around her shoulders, grateful that she didn't pull away.

"Thank you," Pam said simply, "But, Jim, it's ok. You don't need to say anything."

* * *

Pam remained silent long after everyone had left the pavilion. I wanted to ask her if she was alright, but I wasn't sure if it was my place to. I really wanted it to be my place to, but I wasn't ready to cross that line yet, not with her feeling the way she was. So, I remained standing there, one arm lose around her shoulders, waiting for her to say or do anything.

"There's a young girl sitting by herself," Pam observed. I let out a sigh of relief that any words were better than nothing. She pointed to the back of the pavilion, near where we were previously sitting, to the girl no older than twelve, sitting along and reading a book. "I wonder where her parents are." She broke away from me heading towards the girl and due to my newly formed habit, I followed.

The girl was a little heavier, but had a pretty face. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore a simple jeans, plain purple t-shirt, and tennis shoes. She was reading a book by Judy Blume.

"Hi," Pam said, her voice high and kind.

The girl barely looked up from her book, "I'm not supposed to talk with strangers," she said dismissively. She wasn't scared of Pam, but she didn't want to be bothered either.

"My name is Pam Beesly," Pam said, holding out her hand, but the girl didn't take it, "I actually work for the museum and for the festival."

"Oh, that's nice." The girl said, not looking up.

"Where are your parents?" Pam asked.

"My mom went to the bathroom," the girl said simply, "She said I'm old enough to just stay put, so I am. My name is Abby, by the way." She gave Pam a half smile before returning to her book.

I thought I'd take a stab at communicating with the girl, so I sat down next to her, "Hey Abby, I'm Jim Halpert, I write for the Scranton Times."

She gave me a skeptical look, which I found unusual for a twelve-year-old to have. "You're a reporter?"

"Yup, and I'm doing a story on the art festival. Could I do an interview with you?"

She gave me a side-ways glance, but her book was now shut, at least she was now interested. "How do I know you're really a reporter?"

"I can prove that," I pulled out the tape recorder I had been using all day and explained that I had been giving interviews, which I recorded on to the small tape inside. Abby examined it and played a small portion back.

"Would my name be in the paper then?" she asked curiously as she handed me back the tape recorder.

"It definitely would," I responded, "We just have to make sure your mom is alright with it when she gets back."

Abby rolled her eyes. "Oh, she'll be fine. She basically lets me do what I want."

Pam, who had been silent during the whole exchange, but watching happily, took the seat in front of Abby and turned so that she could face us.

"What brought you to the art festival," I asked.

"My mom in her Volvo," Abby answered smartly.

Pam gave me a look that suggested I had that coming. "Do you like art? Was it her idea or your idea?" She asked for me.

"Her idea," Abby said, "She wants me to get cultured or something. Plus my teacher at school said we'd get extra credit if we came. I'm an A student. I don't need it, but mom insisted. Art's alright, if you like that kind of stuff. I prefer books. They're much more interesting."

"Yeah, I love reading too," I agreed, "But I love reading about facts and sports and stuff. That's why I became a writer."

"That's different," Abby stated, "You write non-fiction, I prefer fiction. I write fiction stories sometimes."

"Do you? That's awesome," Ok, so it was a little bit of a show, but the girl was sweet and I'll admit to liking kids. "Well, I'll bet you're already better than I am. I can't write fiction at all. I can only write things that really happen."

"It's not so hard," Abby insisted, now fully engaged in the conversation, "You just have to use your imagination."

"You should use your imagination with art, too," I explained I looked up at Pam and smiled, but Abby didn't seem to understand, "I mean, there's a lot of cool art out there. You don't have to understand it, just use your imagination and pull out of it whatever you want."

"Don't the artists want you to think it is something specific?" she asked, trying to grasp the concept.

"Sometimes," I said, "but most of the time, you just have to pull your own conclusions."

"Cool," she said smiling, "I think I'll have to have another look around when my mom comes back. I can look at the art and then…use my imagination to come up with a story."

"Exactly!" I said excitedly. "So, have any other comments on the art festival, anything you'd like to add that I could put in my article?"

"Yeah, I didn't like the speech guy," she said, quickly with her answer.

"Really?"

"No, I found him obnoxious and pretentious. He didn't say anything remotely interesting to get me to want to be in art."

I was a little dumbfounded by her vocabulary and observation skills. "You know what, I kinda felt that way too, but I don't think we can put that in the article. We want to make it a positive one so people will want to come to the festival."

"Ok, well then you can say," she leaned back to think about it, "the festival is pretty cool."

"Great," I said grinning, "That I can use."

"Abby! Abby!" A small, blonde haired woman in a business suit came running up to the pavilion. "I told you not to talk to strangers."

"They're not strangers mom," she said, an air of annoyance in her voice. "This is Jim and he's a reporter for the newspaper. The Scranton Times," she reiterated as if it was as important as the Washington Post, "And Ms. Beesly works for the museum."

Abby's mom looked a little relieved, "I should have taken you with me."

"I'm fine mom," Abby said rolling her eyes.

"Thank you for looking out for her," Abby's mom said, glancing at me then to Pam. "You really work for the museum?"

"Yes, I do," Pam assured her. "I work in public relations. I saw your daughter alone and I just wanted to make sure she was ok."

"They were just making sure I was alright," Abby repeated, still looking at her mother as if she was freaking out over nothing. "And Mr. Halpert wanted a quote for the newspaper, which he said they could do if it was alright with you."

"Well, how about that," she eyed her daughter, "You're gonna have your name in the paper." Abby smiled brightly. "My name is Stacy by the way." She said holding out her hand, I shook it. "You probably think I'm a horrible mother, leaving her alone, but she's a good kid and ever since her dad left…" She stopped short, thinking that it was probably too much information.

"It's alright, she seems like a very intelligent child," I said kindly.

"We should invite Mr. Halpert over for dinner," Abby said matter-of-factly, "And Ms. Beesly too," but Pam was more of an afterthought.

"Abby," her mother was embarrassed, but I don't think she wanted to discourage the invitation. Pam shuffled her feet and stared at the ground.

"You know what Abby?" I said gently, "I would love to have dinner with you at some point, but right now is not a good time. Ms. Beesly and I have plans for tonight, but you should definitely come back to the art festival tomorrow and look at some more art. I know I'd like to come back," I gave Pam a wink.

That seemed to settle it. Stacy thanked us again and told Abby that they needed to go. Abby shot me a friendly look and waved as they ventured out into the park.

* * *

"Well, I think I just got the cutest interview I'm going get today," I commented after Abby and her mom left. "I mean how adorable was that kid?"

"You are really good with kids," Pam complimented. She was looking much brighter than she did after the speech.

"Well," I started trying to be modest, "I have two nieces and a nephew, so, you know, that helps."

We smiled at each other, but the pause lingered, neither of us knowing what to say next. "I think she was into you." Pam said quietly.

"Oh, the kid?" I purposely joked, "Of course, 12-year-olds love me."

Pam rolled her eyes and smiled, "No, I meant the mom. She wanted you to have dinner with her."

"Oh right," I didn't know why she was bringing up such an awkward thing,. "Well, I don't think I'm ready to be apart of a kid's life yet. It was a nice gesture and I'm always up for food."

Pam looked a little relieved by my answer, "Yeah, speaking of dinner, I should really get some. I haven't eaten since, well, you got here, which was," she glanced down at her watch, her eyes widening, "a lot longer ago than I suspected."

"Yeah, I really should get some dinner too," I added not aware I was hungry until I said it. Looking back, I could have asked her to dinner right then, but my nerves got the best of me so I kept on talking, "And I think I have what I need for the article, which, I promise will be brilliant. And, I have to do some shopping tonight too, you know, stock up on necessities and stuff. I know I'm completely out of fabric softener."

She raised an eyebrow, "You use fabric softener?"

"Yes," I said slowly. I may have been on my own for ten years, but my mother did teach me a few things. "Who doesn't?" I asked.

She shrugged, though looked up at me as if I were the biggest dork on the planet. "Well, I probably should announce the festival will be over soon." She said, walking up the pavilion to the sound equipment.

"Did you ever think of announcing something completely silly into that mike instead of what you're supposed to?" I asked as she started fiddling with the sound equipment.

She turned around and rolled her eyes. "What are you, twelve?" she said with a laugh. "Actually, I turned it on once when Kelly was chattering away yesterday after you left, just because. Jan chewed me out for an hour."

It was my turn to laugh, "And you think I'm juvenile."

"Actually, I just want to get this done and sneak out of here," she said on a serious note. "Even though Jan said I could go early, if I stick around, I know some one is going to throw a fit, and I've had such a long day. Sleep sounds really good right now."

"Yeah, I guess I might be roped in too if I don't leave soon," I added.

"Jim, you've done so much already," she said sincerely. "I can't ask for anything more. You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

"Well, I could at least, walk you to your car or something," I said clinging on to these last moments.

"I took the bus."

"Oh, right."

"Well, thanks, Jim, for everything. The article, I'm sure, will be amazing." She hesitated before she spoke again. "I'm really glad that I got to know you."

"Yeah," I said softly, not wanting this day to end, "me too."

"You know it was…" She began.

"I did have…" I started.

"…a good day," we ended in unison.


	9. Only You

"Jinx," Pam said quickly, wanting to be sure that she said it first. A mischievous smile crawled upon her lips. "You can't talk until you buy me a coke." I began to protest, but she silenced me by putting one finger to my lips. "Nope, no talking. Those are the rules and if you can't follow them…"

I tilted my head and raised my eyebrows, daring her to finish that sentence, but she didn't say a word. Instead, she crossed her arms and grinned, wordlessly challenging me to make the next move. I gave her a shrug, letting her know that I did not intend to let her win this little game.

The nearest vending machines were near the bathrooms at the front end of the park. As I started in that direction, Pam followed, a little bounce in her step, giddy that I had decided to go a long with the game. "So, is there anything you'd really like to talk about?" she teased as we made our way across. Apparently, she had no intentions of backing down either, since she looked determined to get me to speak. "World politics? Literature? How I believe that the dinosaurs will come back and instead of cohabitation, we'll be forced to endure years of violent wars until society is left to starve in caves and fear the day that cross breading begins?"

I chuckled as we walked, though it was going to take more than her saying weird things to get me to speak. I was, however, half tempted to say something anyway, just to see how she would react.

"So, you're not going to talk, huh?" she ragged. I remained speechless, trying not to give her any attention, remaining focused on the vending machine a good fifty feet away. "Well I'm not going to stop talking. I'm going to say every useless fact that I know about everything and expound on it until you crack."

I suppose that was meant as a threat, but I don't think she got that I could listen to her all day long, that I had listened to her all day long and was far from cracking. I took my time walking to the vending machine, partly to see how far she would take this.

"No," she said in a faux-serious voice. "Talking isn't going to do anything. But I could just sing to you." And she did, starting in on the most annoying, off-key version of "Islands in the Stream." She didn't know the words, fumbling with the verse, and she was laughing too much to really make it coherent. If it weren't such blatant mockery, it would be endearing.

I kept my head low, shaking it at the ground, though I couldn't help but let a smile form on my lips. Her attempts were amusing if nothing else. By the time we reached the vending machine, she was laughing so hard that she couldn't even keep up saying silly things.

As I fished for my wallet, she leaned up against the red and white machine. The bathrooms were in a secluded area of the park, only a single, dull yellow light spilled over the tiny paved section we were on. The festival, now winding down, seemed distant, like a fading memory. She smiled widely, the white light from the vending machine making her glow.

I pulled a dollar out of my wallet and simply slipped it in the slot as she watched. I lightly placed my hand over the Coke button, but hesitated, a little sorry to see the game end. "What are you waiting for?" she teased, anxious for her Coke.

I squinted my eyes at her, then looked back at the Coke button and shrugged. Instead of pushing it, my hand wandered down to the Diet Coke button and flashed her a grin.

"Hey," she said, pretending to be offended. She lightly swatted my arm. I bent lower, reaching for the bottom button, which happened to be Peach Iced Tea. She rolled her eyes. "It's gotta be Coke, or you lose," she joked.

Before I could push the button, my cell phone began to buzz. I reached in my pocket and pulled it out, but Pam grabbed it out of my hands before I had the chance to see who it was. "You're still under Jinx," she stated firmly, "so no phone calls." She read the tiny orange screen. "Stanley," she stated aloud. "Maybe I should tell him you are currently unavailable."

My eyes grew wide for a second, as I realized Stanley was probably calling because he was late for his anniversary dinner. But, I figured if she wanted to answer it and get yelled at, it was better than me. I leaned against the side of the vending machine, crossed my arms, and shrugged. It was my turn to see if she'd actually do it.

"Alright," she said, though I could see the hesitancy in her actions. She flipped the phone open and answered in a perfect receptionist-like voice, "Jim Halpert's phone, how may I help you." I could make out Stanley's low, harsh tones coming from the phone. Pam was not expecting this. "No, sir, I'm just a- Yes, he's still here, but he can't come to the phone right now…No, this isn't a prank." There was a pause, as I heard Stanley yelling into the phone and for a moment, I felt bad that I let her answer it. She nodded, quite unsure what to say. At one point, she offered me the phone, but took a step back and shook my head. "I'm so sorry, sir," she said finally. "Alright, I'll tell him, bye."

She sheepishly handed me the phone and I gave her a half smile, letting her know it was alright.

"Um, he wasn't too happy with you," she told me, again leaning against the vending machine. "He said he didn't think that it was funny that you had other people answering your phone and that the game went long and he was late for his dinner. Apparently, it's the last time he'll be covering a game for you."

I nodded, knowing full well that Stanley would only call if he were upset. I titled and shook my head to let her know I was sorry.

She took a deep breath in, "I didn't know you were a sports reporter." She questioned me with her eyes, but grateful that I hadn't yet pushed the Coke button I turned away. "I just think it's odd, you know. We've spent all this time together and I had no idea-" She didn't sound upset, but she didn't sound pleased to hear this information either. "What else aren't you telling me?" she asked, sincerely probing for answers. "I mean, Jim, really, there's no reason you should feel to withhold talking to me. We're friends now, and-" again, she let the sentence die.

She shifted uneasily, waiting for me to speak, but here I was hiding behind the rules of a children's game. Because I wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, and how I've enjoyed every minute of this day because I was with her. I wanted to let her know I was torturing myself inside, trying to ask her out, wanting to hold her hand, wanting to do other things. I stared at her intently, wanting her to see that there was plenty I wasn't telling her. I wanted to show her there was much more hidden behind all the games and the mask for friendship.

I don't know if she didn't understand what I was feeling or if she was choosing to ignore it. Either way, she turned from me, shifting her gaze to the ground. She tapped her foot on the ground for a moment, also deep in thought, but then, just when I thought I should break the jinx anyway, a tiny smile curled on her lips.

"I could use this to my advantage," she said, the teasing tone returning. "So, you're a sports guy," she nodded searching for the right thing to say. "Well, I don't know much about sports, but I do know that Phillies suck." She grinned.

She completely ruined the moment with such a blasphemous statement. In retaliation, I banged on the Coke button, a can came tumbling down and I reached down to retrieve it.

"Aw, you've got nothing to say?"

I held out the can for her, but when she reached for I pulled it away.

"Hey," she said grabbing for the Coke, but I pulled it out of her reach. "That's supposed to be mine," she informed him, laughing as she continued to reach for it.

I smiled at her and shook my head as I cracked open the can and began to drink. The Phillies do not suck, I thought as I enjoyed the beverage.

"Jim!" Pam cried, as I kept moving the drink out of her reach, even as I was consuming it. "Come on, Jim, you're not playing by the rules."

* * *

I did eventually buy her a Coke, but only because I didn't think I could keep up the charade much longer. As much fun as it was to tease her, talking to Pam felt even better, so I gave in and bought her the soda. The only downside was that I was out of excuses. The festival was winding down, only a few stragglers walking up the paths.

"I have to announce that we're closing soon," Pam informed me. I wasn't sure whether that meant I needed to go or that she needed to finish her job before anything else could happen. I nodded silently to her, acknowledging it as just a statement.

I followed her back up to the pavilion, where Angela busily worked at getting all the chairs back on the rack. She glared at Pam and I, pausing her task, as we walked past her. Pam made her announcement, her soft voice floating through the park, reminding everyone that the festival was over for the day. I leaned against the nearest pillar, letting her work, enjoying just the sight of her. I felt Angela's eyes linger on me, judging me, though she said nothing.

When Pam finished, she came to my side. Unfortunately, so did Angela. "What is he still doing here?" she jeered at Pam, as if I weren't even standing there.

Pam eyed her confused, "He's doing a story for the paper."

Angela rolled her eyes, "Oh please."

"Hey," I said defensively, "What's the deal?"

Angela didn't respond, only shook her head at Pam. "Well, if he insists on taking up space, he can help us clear off the pavilion."

"Actually, Angela," Pam started slowly, obviously afraid of what the tiny woman might do. "I'm going to be going home soon. Jan said that I didn't need to be apart of the clean-up, that you guys have it under control."

Angela's eyebrow arched high and she pursed her lips. "It's bad enough that Phyllis thinks that she can just get out of this because it is her birthday and that Ryan and Kelly think it's ok to sneak out early so they can do- who knows what and that Michael still feels like he can't walk because of- well, I didn't catch what happened exactly, but do you really expect me to move all these chairs by myself? Do you really think that you are the only one that has a life outside this festival? I have cats at home who are waiting for their home-cooked meal. If I don't get home soon, who knows what will happen."

"I'm sorry Angela," Pam returned kindly, "But it's just some chairs. And Jan is here somewhere, I'm sure she'll help out."

"You can not just leave me here alone," Angela angrily shot back. "This is your responsibility. You are the one in charge of this festival, aren't you? Maybe I should talk to Jan and let her know how incompetent you are at your job."

Pam threw me a guilty and apologetic look, and then obediently grabbed one of the chairs. I came over and place one hand over hers, stopping it from picking the chair up. "You don't have to do this," I said, feeling elated by the mere touch of her skin. "You've worked hard all day and your boss promised you could go early. You haven't eaten and, well, I haven't eaten and-"

"Don't tell her what to do," Angela yelled, pushing me away from Pam. She may have been small, but there was a lot of force in that little blonde woman. "Maybe you should go home."

I backed up a step, shocked at Angela's intensity. I glanced over at Pam, waiting for her speak. "Jim, really, its ok. I can help Angela out." She said, though the day had worn her down and it shown in her eyes.

"But, Pam," I protested. "I know you've had a long day and-"

Angela again interrupted, "What is your problem? She has an obligation to her job. You can not honestly tell me you are actually doing yours."

Pam let out a sigh, "Angela, are you sure you can't finish up on your own? My feet are killing me and I feel like I haven't had a break all day. Jan did say I could leave after the speech."

"The speech has been over for nearly forty minutes," Angela informed her, glancing at her watch. "Why are you still here then."

Pam gaped a little, but nothing came out. "She was helping me," I jumped in. "We were finishing the article."

Angela gave me another strong glare. "I think I will just find Jan and ask her," she said sternly. She whipped around quickly, marching off the pavilion. "You better be here when I get back, Pam Beesly," she warned.

"Come on, let's go," I said, tilting my head towards the parking lot. "I'm sure we can sneak out of here before she gets back."

Pam looked reluctant. "I don't know, Jim, I mean it is my job. And Angela is atrocious when she doesn't get her way. She's already pissed enough."

"You're really afraid of that woman?" I asked, doubtful that any real harm could come from Angela.

"She has a wrath like you wouldn't believe," Pam assured me. "Plus, I feel bad, I mean she is right, this is my festival."

I let out a sigh, "And you did a great job with it. So, give yourself a break. Seriously. Let's go."

Pam looked around, but she saw no one and in a move that I assumed was daring for her, she nodded, "Ok, I just have to grab my stuff."

We raced off the pavilion and towards the parking lot, stopping only for a moment at a private staff tent where Pam's purse was located. Soon, we had exited the park, Pam giving a short look back at it before facing the parking lot. I smiled to myself, happy to get her to come a long with me.

"Well," she said, as we stood under a lamplight, watching the last few festival-goers climb into their cars. "I have to wait for the bus, but I guess I'll-"

"Why don't I just give you a ride home?" I jumped in, not wanting to miss my opportunity this time. "I mean, if you're taking the bus, you can't live that far away, and I have my car here and it's no big deal."

She crossed her arms over her chest and drummed her fingers against the fabric of her shirt as she thought it over. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I insisted, heading away from the lamp light over to where my Saab sat a few parking spots away. I motioned for her to follow. "Come on, it's better than having to wait an hour for an old smelly bus."

She smiled, "Alright, I guess I can let you drive me home."

I unlocked the doors quickly and opened the passenger's side door for her. I caught the pleasant, but fleeting smile that swept across her face. I began to clear out the seat half-heartedly tossing my jacket, messenger bag, old food wrappers, and a few CDs into the backseat. Pam grabbed the only remaining item, a quart-sized bag of nickels. She held it up, raising an intrigued eyebrow.

"They're for Dwight," I said sheepishly, grabbing the bag from her and placing it behind the driver's seat. She looked interested in the story, but I brushed it off. "It's a long story," I said and left it at that.

Soon we were on her way to her apartment, which was only a mile and a half down the road. With the exception of Pam giving me directions, neither of us said a word, creating an uncomfortably quiet atmosphere. Pam leaned an elbow up against the window and watched the buildings fly by as we passed them. I was growing nervous, knowing that it was time. I couldn't have another bridge moment. No more missed opportunities.

In my head, I debated on what I would ask her. I could ask her to dinner tomorrow night, something nice and fancy. Or maybe she wouldn't want to do fancy. I could ask her to my place, but that felt too forward and besides, my place was far from clean. I couldn't exactly invite myself to her place, that was rude.

As I contemplated the right thing to say, possibly tired of the silence, she reached over and turned on the radio. Pam turned the knob until a song by the Police blared through the speakers. She let out a laugh, completely breaking my concentration. "What's so funny?" I asked, as I turned onto the street where her apartment complex was located.

"Oh, um," she started, "Tomorrow night is the big dance, party thing the festival is holding and I was not in charge of picking the bands. Kelly was. So she picked this local band called Scrantonicity. The other day I had the pleasure of listening to the demo. It was the worst cover of 'Roxanne' I've ever heard. I tried to get it changed, but there weren't any other local bands available, so who knows how it's going to turn out. I don't know why Jan let Kelly pick the bands."

"Ah well," I said, although, Kelly and bands weren't what was on my mind. "So, this party tomorrow night, do you need to be there?" I tried to play it as casually as possible, hoping she wouldn't notice the anxiousness in my voice.

"Yeah, we all have got to be there," Pam said rolling her eyes. "It'd be a lot of fun if I didn't have to work." She placed her head on her hand and stared out the window again.

My heart sunk a little. "Well, maybe I could-"

"My apartment building is right there," she said, pointing to the right with her finger.

'Roxanne' was replaced with a slow 80's ballade, the name of which escaped me. I turned into the driveway and around the corner. I parked in one of the visitor parking spaces, which faced away from the actual building. I stopped the car and shifted the gear into park.

I turned to her, my heart racing, more nervous than I had been all day. My palms were sweating, so I wiped them on my pants. This was it, I told myself, not matter what she said, it would be such a relief to get it over with. My stomach turned with the anticipation. I thought I was much too old to get butterflies, but I guess some things don't change.

"Thank you, Jim," she said, her voice soft. She looked at me directly, with her warm green eyes and placed one hand over mine, giving it a squeeze. My breath quickened at the touch.

I parted my lips, about to speak as she opened the car door, turning away from me. When I heard her shoe hit the pavement I called out, "Hey, Pam-"

She looked back, curious and if I wasn't imagining it, hopeful. She said nothing, but waited for me to speak.

I swallowed hard. "Uh," the words weren't coming. "Have a good night," I let out finally.

She frowned at first, eyes becoming fixated on the dashboard, but managed a half-smile. "You have a good night too," she said before climbing out of the car.

When she slammed the door shut, I leaned back in my chair feeling foolish.

* * *

Life, as a friend once told me, is made up of a series of moments, each one leading to the next, each defining the person that you are, each accompanied by a choice, which will ultimately lead to the next one. But by the end of your life, I think there are a few moments that stand out among the rest, like stars that blink brighter in the sky compared to all the others. These moments are the life changing ones. The moments that when you go back and think about how you got from point A to point B, you start with these.

After she left, I sat in the car, thinking that my moment had passed. I watched in the review mirror as she made her way up to the door of the apartment complex and then it hit me. That this was my chance and I had to take it. I shut off the car, unbuckled my seatbelt and climbed out. The nervousness melted away as a new, anxious sensation took over. All day I wanted to tell her how I felt and all day I couldn't, but maybe I was supposed to wait until now.

My mother, when I was a child, used to go on about fate and destiny, about how everything happens for a reason and no matter how hard you try, it's impossible to escape the inevitable. I never really believed her, I still don't, but I was under firm belief, as I slowly made my way across the parking lot, that if Pam and I had led completely different lives, our paths would have eventually met at this particular moment. This is how the story goes, or else, how my story goes. We may have a choice of how to get there, my mother would say, but the destination was always the same.

My eyes remained fixated on her as crossed the pavement. She was on the porch, digging through her purse, for keys I supposed. She tucked her hair behind her ear, something I noticed her do all day, a trait, I suppose, she had done all her life. I wanted to learn more about her, see more of her everyday traits. I wanted to know her opinions on everything. I wanted to know what she tasted like.

I shoved my hands in my pockets, the thought vivid in my head, as I walked onto the sidewalk. I tried to think of the right things to say, but words escaped me and so I wondered if any words needed to be spoken at all. She didn't notice as I approached, instead she fumbled with her newly found keys. They dropped to the ground, a fortunate accident because it gave me the last few seconds I needed to reach the porch.

She scooped down to pick up the keys and noticed I was now beside her. "Jim?" she asked, her eyes narrowing, confused yet curious. My heart was racing, but I was no longer scared of what I had to do. She looked so beautiful in that moment, even under the unflattering, dim light over the porch. I wanted to tell her that, but I said nothing. Instead, I gave her a knowing half-smile, leaned down and kissed her.

She went limp with shock, her keys slipping out of her hands and landing with a clink on the cement. My arms were quickly around her waist to catch her, pulling her into me as I deepened the kiss. Her lips were soft and sweet, so much better than I had imagined. I could smell the flowery scent of her skin. I feared she might pull away, like she had done earlier that day, but instead she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me back just as hard, just as passionate. It was like I found everything I was missing in my life and I didn't even know I was missing it. She fit comfortably, perfectly in my arms and I never wanted to let her go. As her hands brushed through my hair, my arms squeezed tighter, wanting to take in all of her. I felt energized and exhilarated by the warmth of her body so close to mine. She began to pull away slightly and I clung on eagerly desperately with my lips, wanting the kiss to linger, wanting to explore more of her.

But then she put one hand on my chest and gently pushed away. I released my grip on her waist, taking a step back to look into her eyes, trying hard to read her reaction, but a million different thoughts passed over her features. I knew just as many thoughts raced through my mind, none of which could so easily be summed up in only a few words.

The kiss was my moment, but now it was her turn. I looked deeply into her eyes and waited.


	10. I Try

A/N: Hey everyone, I just wanted to take a moment to thank all of you that have been reading and those that have reviewed. Always wonderful to hear from you and I'm glad people seem to be enjoying the story. I hope you like day three as much as day two! 

Day 3: Pam's POV

_Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz…_ I slammed my hand on the snooze button like I had twice before and curled up tighter under the blanket. The shade was up, but the sun hid behind an overcast sky, making it harder to reconcile getting out of bed. I had been lost in a hazy dream before the alarm sounded and I very much wanted to return. Instead, with one last squeeze of my pillow, I rose and swung my legs over the bed. As I stretched, I realized it wasn't a dream I was holding on to; it was a memory.

…_I couldn't remember the last time I had been kissed like that. I wasn't sure I had ever been kissed like that. I thought of Roy and even at his most enthusiastic, he never held the passion I felt in that kiss. But I pushed Roy from my mind and concentrated on the man that stood before me. The one whose hands I could feel sliding around my waist, along my arms until they rested in my own hands. The one whose body so close to mine was overwhelming me, until I felt drunk with desire. The one whose eyes stared deeply into my own awaiting an answer. But I couldn't form a coherent thought, let alone speak…_

I slipped my feet into my slippers, pulled myself out of bed and wobbled into the bathroom. After doing my business, I went to the tub and turned the knobs. The water squirted out of the showerhead, steam quickly rising in the room. I pulled off my tank top and shorts, letting the cold air touch my skin for only a moment before jumping into the shower. I stood still, letting the water pour over me, the memory on constant replay.

…_His voice broke first, barely a whisper. "I've wanted to do that all day," he admitted, an ecstatic, hopeful grin spreading across his lips._

"_Yeah," I breathed, giving him a light smile in return, though my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. My hands trembled in his, my palms sweatier than I could remember…_

I finished my shower, grabbing the white cotton towel that hung on the hook next to the curtain and wrapping it around my body. I then struggled with the tangled cord of my blow dryer. The humidity in the air made it more difficult than usual to tame my wild hair, but eventually I was able to tease it back into a barrette like I had always done. When I had finished, I took a moment to stare into the mirror. Despite the dark circles that ran underneath my eyes, I looked the same as I had yesterday. I only felt different. That was my own fault.

…_I stared up at him, unsure of what to say, unsure of what to do. He grasped my hands tighter as he pulled me in again, his face slowly inching towards mine, causing my heart to race. I could feel his breath on my cheek, watched his eyes close as our lips nearly met for a second time. _

_Then, like an anvil, reality set in. It was too much. I felt too much. Desire mixed with fear. Curiosity mixed with confusion. The pull of wanting to stay in this intoxicating moment versus the push to run away to what I knew was safe. I was unable to grasp onto one emotion and until I could figure the uncertainty out, I couldn't let this continue, even if I wanted to…_

I got dressed quickly, mindlessly picking out the same outfit that I had worn for years. My monotonous routine hadn't changed. Even through my divorce, mornings were always the same, always like this. The festival had given me a reason to look forward to the day, but this morning felt like the others. No, it felt worse. I chided myself for not knowing what I wanted. I had tossed and turned all night, trying to figure it out, but no definite answer came and here I was, moving around as if it were any other morning.

…_I backed away and his eyes settled on mine once again, only instead of a joyful eagerness, they filled with sadness. I believed he tried to hide the devastation underneath a weak smile, but his emotions, so much clearer than my own, shown through. He gently released my hands, letting them drop to my sides._

_I took the opportunity to break from his gaze, dipping down to retrieve my keys. "I should probably-"_

"_Alright," he said, not wanting me to do any more damage. He paused only a moment before whispering a simple, "Good night, Pam." His eyes tore away from mine and became glued to the ground as he turned away. _

"_Good night, Jim," I replied, a strange sense of sadness washing over me as I watched him walk away. I was the one that wanted so much to run and yet there I stood, long after he left, wondering…_

I had enough time before I had to be at work that I could make breakfast. I wasn't that hungry but I fried up an egg and some bacon to force myself to eat. The bacon I ended up burning while lost in my thoughts, therefore having to throw it out. I washed the egg down with some orange juice and then went on to brush my teeth, leaving the dishes to lie around the kitchen. It would give me something to do when I returned home.

As I was finishing up getting ready, doing my make-up and putting on my shoes, the tiny buzz of my cell phone sounded. For a second I was hopeful that it was Jim, although I still had no idea what I would say. I hurriedly grabbed for my phone, which resided in its typical place next to my purse, but my heart sunk when I saw my past, once again, coming back to haunt me. Roy. Ignoring the ring, I put the cell into my purse and slung it over my shoulder. Roy could wait another day.

I headed out to work early, figuring I could help set-up for the day's events, a distraction I would gladly take. I locked the door and quickly headed out to the bus stop. When I hit the front porch, I paused for a moment, closing my eyes and reliving that one perfect moment. But then my face fell, remembering that all I had now was a memory.

* * *

Jan called us all into a meeting. It was darker and colder than it had been yesterday and I knew she feared that it would have an effect on the turnout. The big community dance started this afternoon, which was one of our biggest attractions this week. If the dance wasn't successful, it would be a big blow to our goal. Jan didn't hesitate to emphasize the importance of our actions.

"Yesterday was a success," Jan told us, smoking her typical morning cigarette. She looked more tired than I felt. "Our attendance was higher than the previous day, but we have to be diligent. We are far from our goal, so while you're working today, remind everyone about our events tonight and the rest of the week. Alright, let's get to work."

Her pep talk was less enthusiastic than usual, but none of us looked as though we were having a good time. Michael was unusually quiet and I wondered if something more had happened between he and Jan last night. Oscar's face remained scowling. Angela kept throwing me vicious looks, probably because yesterday I had left her to pick up nearly the entire park on her own. I had no idea where Phyllis was, but she didn't have the day off, which probably annoyed Angela even more. Ryan looked defeated with Kelly clung to his arm. Only Kelly looked to be in good spirits as she beamed at Ryan.

We split up, all of us heading out to decorate the park for the community dance before we opened. I was set to work on the pavilion but before I did so, I took a detour over to the tent at the east end where the judging competition was to be held.

Every year the festival had an art competition. A judge would come, usually an art critic from Philadelphia or another large city, and choose which pieces he or she liked best. The grand prize was usually a good chunk of money and a chance to get their art featured at one of the galleries that helped sponsor the festival.

There was always a theme for the competition; this year it was self-portraits. I had never been overly confident with my artwork but the piece I had entered, a simple pencil drawing of myself based of a photograph, made me so proud that I decided I would enter it. It wasn't about the prize money, but instead was about putting myself out there, exposing myself to the world; something I rarely do.

The drawing was a nude self-portrait. I sat with my back facing the viewer so that the drawing did not reveal too much, but you could still see the slight curve of my breast. My legs were curled up beside me, my head turned over my shoulder and facing down, eyes fixed on a point in the distance. One arm was bent down, a hand resting on the space next to my bare hip; the other arm lay on my thigh. I had drawn it right after my divorce, trying to express how the changes in my life had affected my physical appearance. The woman I saw on the double weight, cold pressed paper was melancholy, depressed even, maybe not too far from what I felt now.

I glanced around examining the other portraits, most of them far more detailed than mine, with more advanced techniques used in their process or a richer display of colors. I didn't feel I had a chance at all to win anything and part of me wanted to take it away from all the rest but I let it be.

After I had finished making sure everything was set up for the judging, I made my way back to the pavilion to start putting up decorations. We had white and silver streamers, each with silver and blue bows attached to string up amongst the four pillars of the pavilion. I was up on a ladder, wrapping the streamers around one of the pillars when Kelly, who tried to restrain her joyful demeanor, came bouncing over.

"Wow, Pam," she stated as she glanced around the pavilion. There were balloons and streamers everywhere. "You've really gone all out for this, haven't you?"

"Yeah, I guess," I said. Working was better than thinking. "I just, you know, wanted to make sure everything was ready for today. I mean, you heard Jan, we have to make it perfect, so, no harm in making it look festive." I changed the subject without looking down at her. "You look cheerful today, what's up with you?"

I should have known better than to ask. "Oh nothing," she cooed. "Oh, wait everything! Ryan finally, finally called me his girlfriend and in front of all his friends, which is totally amazing because I've been calling him my boyfriend forever and he's never called me his girlfriend ever, especially around his friends, but last night he did when some guy was hitting on me and I could have totally hooked up with him and I thought about it too, but Ryan was being extra sweet, but he was also really drunk..."

Only part of me paid attention to Kelly's rambling as I continued to wrap the streamer around the pillar. At least now I knew why Ryan looked so out of it. I had guessed that Kelly kept him up nearly all night. I placed a piece of tape on the streamer and tore the end off the roll, but instead of climbing down I continued to stare at the streamer, lost in my own thoughts.

"Pam!" Kelly pushed on the ladder, rocking it and making me lose my balance. I clung to the pillar for support, irritated that she could have caused me to break my neck. "What's wrong with you today, you're walking around here like a zombie and putting way too much effort into this thing."

"Nothing's wrong," I lied as I climbed down the ladder. "I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

Kelly eyed me suspiciously. "Oh, that reminds me. What is the deal with that reporter?"

"What?" I stammered, my cheeks flushing.

"You both said that my name would be in the paper today and when I picked up a copy I did not see my name anywhere," she complained. "I didn't even see an article on the festival."

I stared at her, completely shocked. "There wasn't an article?"

"No," Kelly continued, "and I think I'm going to lodge a formal complaint to the editor because there's no reason that my interview shouldn't be in the paper. It would serve that lame reporter right to get fired for not including my name."

"Hey," I said sharply, surprising myself over my automatic defense of Jim.

"Oh please, Pam," Kelly said rolling her eyes. "Couldn't you tell that the only reason he stuck around was to follow you all day? It was so pathetic. I would never be that pathetic over a guy. He even told me he was into you but I set him straight, told him you weren't even interested."

"Wait, what?" I cut in. "When did you and Jim have a talk about me?"

Kelly shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, like, some time yesterday."

"Well, what did he say?" I asked eagerly.

"I don't know," Kelly replied, not seeming interested in the conversation. "But it was so obvious, the way he kept looking at you. I totally set him straight though."

"Oh, Kelly," I groaned.

"Come on Pam, he is so not your type," she insisted. "I already have a guy for you, remember? That frat boy friend of Ryan's I mentioned I set you up on a blind date with. He is totally coming out today by the way. Ryan and I are so excited about the double date!"

I wished she hadn't changed subjects so fast but I knew that Kelly had a one-track mind. "I am not going on a blind date," I told her firmly. She had been pushing this for months and even without the complication that Jim added, I had no intention of being set up by Kelly.

"Yes, you have to," Kelly whined. "He's coming out today and you promised."

"I don't remember promising anything," I replied.

"You'll love him," Kelly said, "he sings and did his undergrad at some fancy ivy-league school, I forget which one. And he's funny. I've only met him once but he seemed like a cool guy."

"No Kelly," I said, not needing another headache.

Kelly stomped her foot on the ground and put her hands on her hips. "Why are you being so difficult? It's been, like, what? Months since you've gotten divorced and you haven't even tried going out with anyone. Do you want to end up an old maid? Because that's what's going to happen if you don't go out on this date."

"I'm not going to become an old maid," I said, feeling that she was being overly dramatic about the whole thing.

"You are too," Kelly said, waving a dismissive hand at me before turning to leave. "You know, you always talk about finding yourself and all that crap. Well, that's nice and all, but one day you're going to be incredibly lonely and you'll wish you didn't push such a great opportunity away."

I said nothing as she made her way off the pavilion. I remained staring at the cement, contemplating her words.

* * *

Jan and Michael came by, not noticing that I was blowing up balloons, as they seemed to be continuing the fight they had yesterday. While none of us knew what had been going on between the two of them before yesterday, now that their relationship was in the open it seemed so obvious that they had been dating all along. And now that they had broken up, they felt no need to conceal their arguments.

"…tell me what I did wrong, Jan, just tell me," Michael was saying as they passed behind the north end of the pavilion. The stage blocked their bodies from my view and all I could see were a couple of bickering heads.

Jan stopped in her tracks. "How many times do we have to go over it?" she asked, throwing up her hands. "You make my life miserable. Isn't that clear enough for you? Yes, we had good times and I don't regret it, but…" She rubbed her forehead, clearly out of answers.

"I fell out of a tree for you..."

"I didn't ask you to do that."

"And I sang for you…"

"Michael, you're about to lose your job."

Michael looked as if he were about to cry. "You have hurt me greatly, Jan."

"Oh stop being so dramatic," Jan shot out.

I thought that Michael would have more to say, he always had more to say, but instead he gave Jan a crushed look and hurried back in the direction they had come from. Jan only shook her head and continued forward. I blew up another balloon and tied it, thinking I wasn't the only one having a rough morning.

Busying myself with work, I was able to have the whole pavilion decorated just as the festival opened. The wind didn't help with every gust knocking down a balloon or unsticking a streamer, but my perseverance won out and the community dance was all set up. Unfortunately, it wouldn't start for hours, leaving me with nothing to do until the band arrived.

I had seen most, if not all, the artwork at the festival, so I strolled down to the booths to see what the venders were selling today. Angela was there again selling little trinkets but she gave me such an unwelcoming stare that I avoided her table all together.

Not far from Angela's table, I saw the booth with all the purses and the redhead that was selling them. The gnawing sensation that I got in my stomach every time I saw her returned as I watched her gracefully chat with a customer. I contemplated if he had ever kissed her the same way he kissed me last night and I closed my eyes, reliving the memory.

A young boy chasing after a little girl accidentally rammed into me, knocking me off balance as well as bringing me back to the present. I decided I wasn't going to dwell on it any longer, so I placed the memory in a little box in my mind and pushed it away.

I continued to walk around, eventually coming to a booth where a woman not much older than me was selling hand made t-shirts. I browsed a bit until I found a blouse that I had really liked. The design was a simple v-neck. It was a deep red cotton material with a few ruffles on the sleeves and collar. I pulled it off the rack to examine further and when I found that it was only five dollars, I went to the woman sitting at the cash register and paid for it. The woman mentioned that it would look beautiful on me but I felt as though she said that just to be polite. I thanked her anyway.

Satisfied with my impulse buy, I took it out of the bag to look it over once more. I placed it across my body to see how it would fit and wondered what Jim would think if he saw me in it. I shoved it back in the bag in an attempt to squish that thought from my mind.

Not long after I spotted Kelly heading my way. I wanted to avoid her after our conversation earlier and ducked behind one of the tables, but she saw me anyway and screamed out my name. I waved, knowing that if I didn't acknowledge her she would assume I was ignoring her and I would never hear the end of it.

"Pam, what did you buy?" she asked immediately, poking at the plastic bag I was carrying.

"Oh, nothing," I said, not really wanting to hear Kelly expounding on my wardrobe choice. She once gave me a twenty-minute lecture about the shoes I wore.

"Come on, Pam, we're like best friends at work and you have to show me because that's what best friends do," she said. I shuddered at the best friend comment, but knew if I didn't indulge her it would make the situation worse, so I pulled out the blouse. "Oh my god," she gushed, "It's so beautiful. You should totally, totally wear that when you meet your date this afternoon! You have to try it on right now and so I can see how it looks."

"I don't know, Kelly," I responded, unsure. The blouse wasn't my typical style and I still wasn't sure if I wanted to try it on for anyone yet.

"You so should," Kelly said giggling, "It'll be like a mini-fashion show." She began to chant 'fashion show' repeatedly until I gave in and found myself walking with her to the bathroom.

In no time I had changed into the blouse. It was tighter than I had expected it to be and a bit more revealing than what I normally would wear, but it felt fresh and new, which was rejuvenating.

I nervously walked out to where Kelly was waiting but the minute she saw me she began to rave. "Oh my god, that looks amazing on you, Pam! Really it does. It's so much better than those ratty old striped things you insist on wearing. You look totally hot in that."

I usually take Kelly's compliments with a grain of salt, but the blouse did feel more comfortable than what I was originally wearing so I thought I should, for once, take Kelly's advice and wear it for the rest of the day.

I placed the old shirt into the bag and told Kelly I was going to put it away with my other stuff. The staff has a personal tent where we can keep our belongings, which has someone to watch over it at all times. Kelly claimed she had other things to do, so we went our separate ways.

As I walked down the path to the staff's tent, I noticed a couple of older men in business suits watching me. At first I thought there might be something wrong with me, like a snag in my panty hose or I something stuck to the back of my shirt but as they continued to watch as I walked by, I realized they were checking me out. Feeling uncomfortable under their stares, I crossed my arms over my chest. I considered going back and changing, but I didn't feel like switching shirts again, so I decided to just deal with it.

Inside the tent, Oscar sat on a chair in the corner doing some paper work and Jan sat against a table, smoking and reading the newspaper. I came in and placed the bag next to my purse, both of them so engrossed in their activities that neither one noticed me.

"Are you kidding me?" Jan snarled before taking another long drag on her cigarette. I paused, thinking she was talking to me, but she hadn't looked up from the paper.

"Um, Jan," I said, not sure if I should disrupt her, "is everything alright?"

Her head shot up. "What? Oh, it's just that—" she stopped and threw the paper down on the table in disgust. "Ed Truck is dead."

"No!" I heard Oscar comment from the corner.

"Uh, who is Ed Truck?" I asked.

Jan threw her cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. "Oscar, come on, I think we have to make a few phone calls. Grab an aide to watch the tent." Oscar nodded, jumping out of his seat.

"Jan?" I asked again.

"I can't explain now," Jan snapped. She picked up the paper and threw it over to me. "Oh, and next time you have a reporter come and claim they're doing an article for the paper, make sure they actually write one."

I unfolded the paper as Jan and Oscar raced out of the tent. I scanned every page. Jan and Kelly were both right, there wasn't even a mention of the festival. I skimmed through the paper again, making sure I didn't miss something, but Jim Halpert's name was no where to be seen. I did recognize Stanley Hudson on the byline of one of the sport's pieces. I leaned against the table where Jan had been previously and thought the lack of an article might actually have something to do with me.

* * *

An aide came to replace me not long after Jan and Oscar left, so I continued roaming around the park, glancing again at artwork that I had already seen. I smiled when I came across the piece Jim and I entitled 'Spontaneous Dental Hydroplosion'. I missed him. After two days of having a companion to joke around and laugh with, to talk to, I felt lonely. Being on my own for so long, I had forgotten how pleasant it was to have another person around. All of a sudden, it felt harder not to have it now.

Jim wasn't just any other person though. He seemed to understand me and enjoy spending time with me. He made me laugh harder than anyone I had ever met. And he genuinely cared. At first I didn't want to believe that but as yesterday unfolded, I began to see the sincerity in his actions. I wasn't used to that much honesty and openness. I had become very guarded since my divorce and the idea of letting anyone in, the thought of being vulnerable, still scared me.

As much as I tried to keep that box in my mind closed, the one that held those memories of yesterday, I couldn't and as the morning slipped into afternoon, I continued to struggle with my feelings for Jim.

Not long after I had finished my lunch, Michael came racing up to me. "Pam, Pam, come quick," he said nearly in tears. Fearful that a fight had broken out or someone had stolen something, I followed him towards the edge of the park where the bathrooms were. "I was going to the bathroom and when I came out, I saw it. It hit the side of the building and fell. I don't know what to do."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, realizing that whatever it was, it probably wasn't an actual emergency. Michael took my hand and led me over to some tall grass at the base of the building. There, nestled in the weeds, lay a small brown bird, its belly up, its wings twitching.

"I think it's dying," he cried, scooping it up in his hands.

"Michael, that's unsanitary," I said, feeling much like his mother but Michael was too upset to care. I ran into the bathroom and got some paper towels so that we could wrap up the bird. "I don't think there's anything we can do," I informed him thinking that we could take it to a vet, but doubtful that one would even bother with a small wild bird.

"It's dying," Michael continued, "and it's all alone."

"It's not alone," I assured him, but Michael's eyes still watered. I realized that this wasn't about a dying bird at all; this was about Jan. He actually cared for her, in that strange way that Michael cared for people. I suddenly felt bad for Michael and though I often found him intolerable, I thought Jan was the one who was doing more damage. "You're here for it," I told him softly. "Maybe this bird knew he was dying already when he saw you and he decided to end his life because he knew you would there for him." I was sincere in my intentions but that didn't stop me from saying the first things that came into my head.

Michael hesitated at my words. "You're just trying to make me feel better." I was trying to make him feel better but I patted him on the shoulder and told him it'd be alright. "Let's find something to bury him in," he said, cradling the paper towel, looking lovingly at the bird.

The two of us went to the booths searching until we found someone that was selling small, brightly decorated paper boxes that looked as though a child had made them. I pointed one out to Michael that I thought was perfect for the bird. Not wanting to touch the dead bird, I let Michael place it, along with the paper towel, into the box. We took it back to the bathrooms and went behind the building. I placed the little box next to the brick wall, tucking it into the high grass. My clothes were too nice for me to go digging around even though Michael suggested it, so I picked some grass and laid it on top of the box, telling Michael that if the bird were alive he could still fly out.

I was ready to walk away when Michael grasped my hand. "We have to say some parting words," he informed me. I nodded, understanding that Michael had a hard time letting things go. "Well, dear bird," he started, chocking up a little, "I hope you live a long and prosperous life."

"The bird's already dead, Michael," I reminded him quietly.

He continued anyway, whimpering, "I hope that all of your bird friends will find out and if you do make it, know that I am always here for you."

I rubbed his shoulder. "You did all you could, Michael. And that's much more than any other wild bird can say. I'm sure he's grateful."

The two of us remained silent, staring at the bird for some time. I wasn't sure if I had cheered Michael up but he had stopped crying. "Thank you, Pam," he managed to say finally. He swung one arm around my neck, giving me a light hug. I gave him a smile. "I'm not giving up on her," he said firmly. For whatever reason, this bird had rejuvenated his confidence. "I'm not," he repeated as he turned to walk away.

I kept my eyes on the bird as he left and I thought about what Kelly had said earlier. Maybe if I kept following this path I would end up alone, just like this bird. Maybe there weren't many difference between Michael and I after all.

I headed back in towards the middle of the park, the heart of the festival. So many people had come out today and for that I was grateful because it meant good business for the museum. The festival that I had organized was doing well, but what was the point if I had no one to share that sense of accomplishment with?

I came up to the fountain, watching the stream of water flow and fall. In the distance, I saw the tiny footbridge. I remembered standing on that bridge, waiting for Jim. And when he arrived? There was a spark between us and I had pushed it aside all day, not wanting to acknowledge its presence, hiding behind a guise of friendship. The signs were all there and yet I ignored them, not thinking that any of it could be real. I wouldn't let it register then or even last night, but it was all sinking in now.

The more I thought about it, the clearer it became, like the water that rested in the base of the fountain. For the first time, I admitted to myself that I cared for Jim Halpert. I cared for him so much more than I thought possible of a person I had only known for two days and the revelation of that was still hard to process. My own feelings scared me as much as our kiss did last night but at least being honest with myself gave me a great sense of relief. It was a step forward, which was better than standing still and going backwards.

I glanced at the ground and noticed an old, dark brown penny wedged into the grass. I bent down, picking it up to examine it. As I had done many times before in that park, I made a wish on the penny and threw it in the fountain. I watched as the penny swirled in the water, eventually finding a resting place among all the other old coins. Not a second later, my phone rang.


	11. Love Today

A/N: Hey guys, really sorry about posting the wrong chapter. Not sure how I managed to do that. Here's the real chapter 11.

The phone startled me. At first, I thought it was Roy calling again, hoping I would answer but when I glanced at the number, I didn't recognize it. Usually I let unknown numbers go straight to voice mail; this time I answered.

"Pam Beesly," I said into the cell.

There was a pause. "Uh, hey," a familiar voice spoke.

"Oh my god." My heart leapt into my throat and for a second I was too shocked to speak. "Jim?"

"Yeah," his voice sounded tense. "I, uh, meant to call someone at the museum. I thought you would be out at the festival."

"No, I mean yeah. I'm at the festival, this is my cell," I stammered. Hearing his voice again made me flustered and I could feel the color rising in my cheeks. "Uh, is there anything I can—"

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean—" he said at the same time.

There was another awkward pause. Jim let out a nervous chuckle. I swallowed hard and shifted my weight uneasily. "Um, do you want to talk with some one at the museum or—"

"No, I just—" he stopped again and I gripped the phone tightly, waiting for him to speak again. "So, I guess you probably noticed there wasn't an article in the newspaper today."

"Yeah," I said lightly, trying to remain calm even though I was still shaky. "What's up with that?

"Well, I guess you could say there were a few…technical difficulties," he responded slowly.

"Technical difficulties?"

I heard a little sigh. "I, sort of, ran over my tape recorder," he mumbled quickly.

I put a hand to my mouth to stifle a laugh. The humor of the moment made me relax slightly. "You ran over your tape recorder?"

"Yeah, it was so stupid," he said, a bit of humor coming to his voice. "I must have dropped it last night and, yeah, it's completely broken."

"Nice," I teased.

"Well, it worked out alright," he continued, "my boss didn't have room for the article in today's paper anyway, so yeah— Oh, and I didn't get a photographer to come out, so no photos either."

I hadn't thought about it yesterday, but now that he had brought it up, I realized there hadn't been a photographer. "Some journalist you turned out to be," I said, still trying to be funny but the second it came out of my mouth I regretted saying it.

Jim didn't respond right away and I feared maybe I had pushed my joking too far. "Uh, so, I called to let you guys know we're coming back out there to get a few photos. Finish up the story. It won't take nearly as long—"

"We?" I asked. Did that mean Jim was coming back with a photographer in tow? The prospect of seeing Jim again made me giddy and I excitedly began pacing around the fountain. There was a low rumbling noise and some static cutting off his response. "Jim," I called into the phone. "Jim, are you still there?"

"Pam?" the voice was spotty. "Yeah sorry about that, I'm here."

"Yeah, so you were saying—"

"So, um, how is—"

"Sorry, go ahead," I said. We kept stepping on each other's sentences and I knew as long as we skirted around the topic of last night, the awkwardness would continue.

"Oh, um…" his voice was breaking up again, making it difficult to hear, "I just wondered how the festival was going today."

His question wasn't what I was expecting. I wanted to talk to him about the kiss but I didn't know how to bring that up and thought it best to play it casual for now. "It's alright," I said slowly, searching for something interesting to say. "Michael and I held a bird funeral."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he's still pretty upset over the whole Jan thing," I explained. "And he found this dying bird, so I bought him a little box for it and we buried it next to the bathrooms."

Jim let out a chuckle. At least we were able to still joke around. "Well, it's a good thing the article isn't done yet. Can't not mention bird funerals as an attraction to the festival."

"Yeah, maybe someone will find the bird's casket and use it in their art work," I jokingly suggested.

"Nice, Pam," Jim replied. "You know, if people like dead bird art you can make a career out of it."

"Right," I said slowly. "But, you know, we'd have to cage them up in case they escape."

"How would they escape if they're already dead?"

"They'd be zombie birds," I answered, stating the first thing that came to my head. He only laughed. "Come on, you never know."

"No, you're right, zombie birds, that is...very creative."

Zombie birds? What was I thinking? But right now, talking about zombie birds was better than not talking at all. There was another pause; I didn't know where to take it from there. "Well, I guess—"

"So, I—" he said at the same time. We both stopped, waiting for the other. "Go ahead," Jim said finally.

"Oh, I just—" Nothing came to mind; small talk seemed impossible to do so I played with the hem of my shirt nervously. "The venders have some really cool stuff out today," I finally stated.

"Like what?" he sounded genuinely interested.

"I got a new shirt."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it's nice," I said. "Hand made, red, different cut than I usually get. I think it's time I retired those old pin-striped shirts."

"Reinventing yourself there, huh Beesly?" he asked.

I smiled, "Yeah, I—"

More interference came through the cell and I could no longer hear anything but static. I called out his name a few times but received no response. The single bars on my cell were all black, meaning I had a full signal so the interference must have been coming from his end. I paced around the fountain, hoping to get better reception but it didn't work. I was about to hang up when I heard Jim's voice, faintly.

"Pam, are you there?" he asked, though his words were choppy due to the signal.

"Yeah, I'm here," I said loudly into the phone. "Jim, you're breaking up on me."

"Pam?" Jim's voice sounded distant, but a little clearer. "I think that's better."

"Yeah, it is. Though you sound…far away," I replied pensively. The static suddenly left and then I heard nothing. "Jim?"

After a short pause, he replied. "Yeah, I'm here," he said softly, though the signal must have returned because he came in clear. "Actually, Pam, I—"

"Hey, Pam," I spun around to see it was Ryan who had interrupted. I tilted my head and gave him a stern look to signify I was busy, but he continued to talk anyway. "Yeah, the band is here and they want to talk to you. Oh, and I am so glad you finally agreed to go on that double date with Kelly and I. He's a great guy, he claims to be an artist or whatever…"

The minute Ryan began talking about the blind date my eyes widened. I knew Jim could hear everything he was saying and the last thing I needed was for him to know about my set-up. I waved my hand to shoo Ryan away. "Ryan, I'm a little busy right now," I said, bringing the phone slightly away from my face. Jim hadn't said a word and I hoped he wouldn't hang up.

Ryan didn't take the hint. "Come on Pam, live a little," he smirked. "He's totally your type. What's the deal? Kelly said you were interested."

I let out a sigh and rubbed my forehead, but instead of responding to Ryan, I began walking away. Unfortunately, Ryan followed. "Ryan, I'm on the phone," I snapped.

"Hey, Pam, you sound really busy," Jim said, his voice hesitant. "I should probably let you go."

"No, Jim, it's just-" I tried to explain.

"Actually, I really should get going," Jim said quickly.

"Oh, you have to go?" I didn't want to hang up.

Jim didn't answer immediately. "Yeah…"

"Alright," I said slowly.

"So…"

"Well…"

"Come on, Pam, hurry up," Ryan insisted.

Before I responded, there was more static on the phone. "Jim? Jim?" I pulled the phone away from my ear to see that the line had been cut. The call had ended.

"Jim?" Ryan asked with an odd look on his face. "Was that the annoying reporter from yesterday?"

I gave Ryan an intense glare.

"What?" he asked, not caring. I wanted to smack the smug look right off his face.

* * *

"Did you have to be so rude?" I asked as Ryan and I walked back to the pavilion. He kept his distance, trailing a few feet behind me.

"What are you talking about?" I knew he knew what I was talking about.

"I was on the phone, Ryan," I said, snapping my head back to give him another glare. "You don't interrupt people like that."

He gave me a blank look. "What's your point?"

I shook my head in disgust and chose to ignore him for the rest of our walk. Usually, I feel bad for him having to put up with Kelly's nonsense all the time but now I felt bad for Kelly for even being interested in the loser.

A few minutes later we arrived at the pavilion. Four middle-aged men, all of who were wearing mismatched bowling shirts, stood by the stage, waiting for me. There were two cases for guitars, but I saw no other equipment. The largest, baldest of the four came walking forward.

"Hi," he said slow and unsure.

"Hello," I said holding out my hand. He shook it lightly, his gaze wandering down to my chest. I withdrew my hand. "I'm Pam Beesly, head of PR."

"My name is Kevin Malone," the man said, his eyes still fixated on my cleavage. I crossed my arms over my chest and his eyes darted upward. "And we are Scrantonicity," he added.

Kelly came literally bouncing up, immediately locking onto Ryan's arm and tugging it. "They're here! They're here!" she cried. Ryan rolled his eyes at her. "These guys are the ones who came out to my Diwali celebration last year and they were amazing!"

"Thanks," Kevin said, giving a dopey smile.

"Have you guys played any other gigs since then?" I asked curiously.

Kevin looked off in the distance as if it were a hard question to answer. "Our pianist got married last week and we played at that."

"Really?" I didn't like the sound of that.

"Don't worry," Kevin assured me. "We have been practicing extra hard the last few days. We almost have a tenth song to add to our play list."

"You only have ten songs?" I asked, growing worried.

"Well," Kevin looked at me dumbly. "Yeah, but we can play all of them over again if you need to."

"I, um…" I didn't know how to respond to that. I started to think of possible back up plans for when this inevitably fell apart. "Um, so why are you guys here so early?" was all I managed to say.

Kevin didn't seem to understand. "What time were we supposed to get here?"

"Well, the dance doesn't start for hours," I explained.

"Oh," Kevin said confused. "Well, could we practice then? I think we could use the practice."

I groaned, "Great."

"Would you like to hear a demo?" Kevin asked.

I scrunched my nose. "Sure," I responded even though I feared how well it would sound.

The two guitarists set up their instruments. The first chord struck was so out of tune that it made my ears hurt. Cringing as they did so, the two guitarists started their own odd rendition of 'Don't Stand So Close To Me.' One guitarist was bad enough, but the two of them together, singing wildly off key was enough to send people running. I feared for the dance tonight.

Kelly on the other hand was thrilled. "Aren't they wonderful?" she said smiling broadly. "They do only The Police songs, though they'll do Jewel and Avril Lavigne if you pay them enough."

I rubbed my head in frustration. Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, it did.

"Pammy?" I whirled around to face my ex-husband.

I let out an "Oh god." Roy was the last person I wanted to deal with today and I was shocked to see him standing there.

"You look really pretty," he commented, looking me up and down.

I folded my arms over my chest again and began to regret buying the shirt. "What do you need, Roy?" I asked tentatively, pulling him aside so we didn't have an audience. Although he had been calling frequently, I didn't know why and I was weary of getting in another pointless argument, especially in front of other people.

He looked tired, but otherwise calm. Other than the attempt of a beard he was growing, something he never tried while we were together, he looked well kept. Last time we spoke, he had been too drunk to carry on a conversation and I was convinced he hadn't had a shower for days.

"Um, can we talk?" he said. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that momentarily reminded me of what I saw in Roy in the first place and for a second I felt sorry that I had been avoiding him.

"I can't right now," I explained, trying to be kind.

"You always 'can't right now,'" he said. I could tell he was trying to hold on to his temper, though I knew it wouldn't last long.

"I'm at work, Roy, what do you want me to say?" I asked defensively, my own temper rising as it always did with Roy.

"I want you to say that you'll talk with me," Roy said, dropping the nice guy act. The vulnerability left his eyes and was replaced by a hardness I knew all too well.

"Well, I'm a little busy," I shot back. Even if I weren't busy, adding Roy to the stack of things I had to think about today was too much to bear.

"You always say you're busy," Roy said loud enough that the band members turned in our direction.

I looked over at them nervously. "Roy, you're making a scene."

He didn't care. "Maybe if you would just talk to me I wouldn't be yelling."

I put a hand to my lips and stared at the ground. I hated when he yelled, it always made me feel small. "I'm at work. You can't do this here, alright?"

"You're always at work or with your mom or not answering your phone," Roy said, his voice still strained, though he tried to keep it down. He knew that I had been avoiding him and that made him angrier than anything. "I even came to see you two days ago and you were no where to be seen. What is your deal? You were the one who said I needed to be more mature and now you're hiding from me like an child."

I didn't like being accused of being a child, not when Roy had acted like one through so much of our relationship but he did have a point, I was hiding. I wished more than ever that Jim were here so I could hide behind him again and make it all go away. I continued to stare at the ground and spoke as calmly as I could. "Roy, look, I have a lot of things going on right now but maybe after the festival is over, you and I—"

"I don't want to wait until the damn festival is over," Roy said, his voice rising.

"Don't speak like that to me," I said firmly, finally meeting his eyes to give him a hard look.

For a second I thought he was going to start yelling again but instead he gave me a dark stare. "This isn't over," he said, his voice low and harsh. His words sent a cold shiver down my spine and I was glad that instead of continuing the argument, he began to walk away.

Michael arrived at the pavilion, nodding at Roy as he left. "Oh, Pam, I see someone has paid you a visit," he said cheerfully. He was up to something and I wasn't in the mood to deal with another one of Michael's crazy ideas. "How is Roy doing these days? Do you miss him? You know, they have these body-sized pillows…"

"What do you want, Michael?" I asked. Michael was the last person I wanted to share my thoughts about Roy with.

"I ran into Jan. She wanted me to get you," Michael said cheerfully. "And she finally talked to me again, Pam. We had a whole conversation." He grinned mischievously at his fortune. "Hey, how did Roy propose?"

The memory surfaced all too clearly. We were just out of college, I was working as a temp in an office and he was working down at the docks. We had been dating for a few years at that point and he kept insisting that we move in together. At the time I said I didn't want to move in until we were engaged but looking back I realized I had greater doubts about the relationship even then. The argument about living arrangements had reached its height one evening in the parking lot of a Taco Bell. Resolution came with Roy simply suggesting that we get married. It took him a year to buy a ring and nearly four years to actually walk down the isle.

"Why do you want to know, Michael?" I asked, not really wanting to drudge up my past for him.

"I think I want to propose to Jan," Michael said simply. He looked proud of his idea.

"What?" I asked in disbelief.

"She's the one, Pam," Michael continued, looking wistful, "and when it's the one, you just know."

"Michael, you shouldn't propose to Jan," I informed him much to his distaste.

"I think I should. So do you have any pointers?" He was dead set on this idea. "You know, at first I thought I should just ask her over for dinner but then I got to thinking and maybe I should make it a public announcement. Maybe at the dance tonight, I can ask her in front of everyone and we'll get our happy ending."

I imagined the public humiliation Michael would go through if he actually decided to go through with the proposal. "I don't believe asking her to marry you is in anyone's best interest." He didn't realize this was for his own benefit. "Maybe you should just…buy her flowers instead."

Michael became flustered. "Why are you always doing that? I have a great idea and you shoot it down. Can't you for once be on my side?"

I let out a tiny sigh. "Michael, I am on your side, which is why I don't think you should ask Jan to marry you."

"Give me one reason she'd say no," Michael challenged.

I could think of twenty. "I just don't think you are there yet," I replied as nicely as possible.

"Oh, fine," Michael said scrunching up his nose. "If you want me to die alone then I'll die alone."

"You're not going to die alone, Michael." I couldn't promise that but saying it to Michael some how made me feel better as well.

"You know Pam," I could see the wheels turning in his head again as an idea formed. "If in thirty years we're both single-"

"No, Michael," I said swiftly, shuddering that he went there.

Michael grunted.

"Michael, what is it that Jan wanted?" I asked, trying to bring him back to reality. He gave me a strange look as if he had no idea what I was talking about. "Remember, you were excited because Jan came to talk to you? What did she say?"

"Oh," he responded, finally snapping out of it. "She called a staff meeting. Something about some important guy dying. I don't know."

* * *

Ryan, Kelly, Angela, Michael and I all bunched into the staff's tent where Oscar and Jan were waiting for us. Oscar sat against the table at the front of the tent while Jan paced a small circle in the grass. She held a cigarette in her hand but hadn't lit it yet. Instead, she waved it back and forth. "Where's Phyllis?" she asked after a moment.

Angela tilted her head and gave a firm look. "She's been gone all day. She obviously does not care about her job. Maybe you should fire her."

"I'm not firing anyone," Jan snapped, though I thought I heard a 'yet' under her breath. "Alright, I guess we'll have to do this without her. I'm sorry everyone but Ed Truck has died." We all stared blankly at her. Jan scowled. "So, I'm assuming none of you know who I'm talking about?"

"Was he that really old guy that founded the museum?" Kelly asked.

"The museum was founded in eighteen-ninety, Kelly," Ryan interjected. "Do you really think that the founder of the museum would still be alive?"

"Yes, he could be, Ryan," she shot back, putting her hands on her hips. "They're doing amazing things with medicine these days, don't you watch the news?"

"I watch the news every night," Ryan continued, "and thinking that a man would live over one-hundred and twenty years is stupid."

"Oh yeah, well, there was this lady who just died and she was one-hundred and seventeen, so it is possible."

"Can't you just admit that you're wrong?"

"You just want me to be wrong."

"Alright, stop!" Jan yelled.

"Ed Truck was one of our main benefactors for the museum," Oscar explained, pulling himself away from the table he had been leaning against. He rubbed his chin and I thought he looked much calmer than Jan. "He was a very rich man who contributed a lot to the museum, including much of the funding that went towards the festival. Last night he was tragically killed in a car accident. While we already sent our condolences to the family, we still have to think of the museum's best interests. Ed's estate is still up in the air since there isn't a will."

"Meaning we just lost our funding for the festival and the museum," Jan finished for him in a low voice.

It was silent for a moment and then everyone began talking at once.

"Oh my god, does this mean we have to close the festival down," Kelly started, "because I have put too much effort into this thing. How dare that man die and not give us any money. I can't believe this…"

And Ryan insisted on arguing with her. "Why do you always assume the worst? Can't you think of this as a positive thing?" They continued to bicker.

Angela made her usual snide comments. "You know I have been saying for years that we have to get more public funding instead of private. This was bound to happen, it was only a matter of time."

Michael wailed louder than anyone. "Oh, I can't believe this is happening! We're all going to lose our jobs! Why does this day have to be such a bad day? My horoscope said I would have happy news; this is not happy news. I feel like crawling up in a ball and crying…"

I tilted my head and glanced at Oscar who was still remarkably unruffled about the situation. He shrugged and shook his head. This was bad news for the museum, a huge blow. I wasn't sure how we could come out of it.

Jan, meanwhile, managed to light up her cigarette and take a few puffs before speaking again. "Quiet!" she said, though she was barely audible. "Quiet down!" she screamed again. Everyone turned her attention towards her. "I need everyone to calm down," she insisted, "because the last thing we need is a major freak out. Believe me, I already did that and it doesn't help anything. So, here's what we're going to do. Oscar and I are going to go back to the museum to see if we can work some of this financial mess out. In the meantime, we've got to get as many people out for the community dance as possible."

"Jan," Michael interrupted pleadingly.

"If this doesn't help the museum, I don't want to hear it," Jan snapped.

"I wanted to know if I could come with you. I'm awfully persuasive…"

"No."

"Please?"

She ignored him completely. "Kelly, Ryan, I want you to make up flyers and post them around town. Make sure you hit every business and tourist attraction in Scranton." Ryan and Kelly scurried out of the tent.

"What do you want me to do?" Michael asked.

Jan narrowed her eyes. "You can go help them," she said, mostly to get him out of her hair for a while.

"Oh, that'll be productive," Angela commented. "It's like putting a five-year-old in charge of a couple of two-year-olds."

"That's not helpful," I reprimanded. Angela rolled her eyes.

"Angela," Jan continued, "will you make sure the press is running advertisements for the festival, including the TV spots we made up last week?"

"Wait," I cut in, "isn't that part of my job?"

"I don't want to talk to those nasty reporters!" Angela complained. "Besides, Pam spent all day yesterday whoring herself out to the press."

"Angela," I exclaimed, shocked that she would say such a thing.

"Angela, go," Jan said, snapping her fingers and pointing towards the exit. I could tell her tolerance level had dropped to an all time low in the last few minutes. Angela groaned as she left. "Pam, it is part of your job but I need you to stay here and make sure the festival keeps running smoothly. I don't know if I'll be back for the judging but hopefully we'll be here for the dance."

"Oh, and by the way, I wanted to let you know that the Scranton Times is coming back out today," I said, figuring that any publicity at this point would be good.

"Back?" Jan asked, wincing. "Why would they be coming back?"

"I- uh- to finish the story," I stammered.

"Yeah, I'll believe it when I see it," Jan replied.

I nodded. "Is there anything else you need me to do?"

Jan thought it over for a moment. "Just, please, make sure everything goes right." She dropped her cigarette and stomped it out, then motioned Oscar to follow her. "I'll have my cell if you need me," she informed. As she and Oscar made their way out, Phyllis finally showed up. "Where have you been?" Jan asked sternly.

Phyllis blushed a little. "Oh, Bob and I—"

"I don't care," Jan interrupted. "Pam will fill you in on what's going on." With that, she and Oscar left.

Phyllis gave me a strange look. "I didn't think it'd be a problem to take the morning off," she said innocently.

"It's just been a really long morning," I explained.

"Oh, I see," she said softly. "Well, I'm glad I caught you, there's a reporter here from the Scranton Times who is asking for you."

"Jim?" I asked hopefully, thinking that seeing him again under any circumstances would make this day better.

She titled her head and gave me a curious look. "No, actually," she responded. My heart dropped. "It's a woman. She said her name is Karen Filippelli."


	12. The Rainbow Connection

Phyllis told me that the reporter would be waiting for me at the pavilion. Sure enough when I arrived at the pavilion there stood a small, dark-haired woman in a grey pantsuit. I knew it had to be her because she held a pen and a pad of paper in one hand and was chatting with a tall, large man holding a camera. As much as I appreciated The Scranton Times for coming back out to finish the story, I couldn't help but be disappointed that Jim wasn't here.

"Hi, I'm Pam Beesly, SIA's PR person," I said when I reached the patch of grass they stood on. I held out my hand, giving Karen and the man she was talking to a friendly handshake. "My colleague said you were looking for me."

"Hi, yes, I'm Karen Filippelli, Scranton Times," Karen said, a bright smile on her face. "And this is Darryl Philbin, our photographer."

Darryl gave a friendly nod. "Karen, I'm going to go ahead and get some shots," he said.

"That sounds good," Karen replied. "I don't think this should take more than an hour, so why don't we meet back here at three."

"Will do," Darryl said before heading off into the park.

Karen turned her attention back to me and I couldn't help but feel as though I knew her from somewhere but I couldn't quite place where. I thought hard, but nothing came to mind. It was her name. I swear I heard her name before.

Meanwhile, Karen got her pad and pen ready. She was about to ask her first question when she noticed what I was wearing. "That's a really pretty shirt," she complimented. "It looks hand made, where did you get it?"

"Oh, yeah it is," I said, looking down and playing with the hem. I was still preoccupied with where I knew her. "I actually got this from one of the venders here. Five bucks, and it's very comfortable. You should check the booths out, there's a lot of cool stuff there."

"Yeah, I should," she agreed. "I probably will once I get this finished. I mean, I was supposed to do this story in the first place, but then my sister's wedding was moved up and I had to fly out to Connecticut for a while…"

"I'm sorry," I interrupted. "But have we met before?"

She stopped, blinking at me a few a times. "I don't think so," she answered slowly. "I know I've been in touch with your predecessor, Marjorie, but I believe this is the first time we've met."

"I just—" I started, shaking my head. "You seem familiar to me. Never mind, Marjorie probably just mentioned you before."

Karen shrugged her shoulders. "Or maybe we saw each other last year at the festival. I come every year."

"That could be," I said, though I didn't feel like that was it.

"Yeah, I love this festival," Karen explained, her eyes glowing with excitement. "My dad took me when I was little and ever since I've just been enamored with the art and the talent we've got here in this town. I've seen the big New York stuff, but I can't get over how amazing all of this local art is."

"Yeah, I think it's cool too," I agreed. "I've also come to the festival every year. My grandma took me when I was younger."

"That's awesome," Karen replied. "I hear there's a great pencil and ink exhibition here. Drawings are my favorite."

"Really? Mine too," I agreed again. Despite the fact that I still wished Jim were here instead of her, Karen seemed alright.

"Yeah, I was so bummed out when I thought I couldn't come," Karen continued. "I'm a little glad that Jim screwed up, so now I get to do the story myself. And I'm sorry about that, by the way. Jim's a great guy, but sometimes he's just--you know."

"Yeah, right," I stuttered. I could feel my cheeks flushing at just the mention of Jim's name and I hoped that Karen didn't notice.

"Speaking of Jim, where is he?" she asked, glancing at her watch. "He said he'd be here by now."

My heart skipped a beat. "Wait, Jim said he was coming?" I asked just to make sure I heard her right.

"Yeah," Karen looked at me oddly. "He said he called you to tell you we were coming. He did do that, right?"

"Um, yeah, he…uh, did," I managed to get out. Just the thought of him coming tied my stomach in knots and prohibited me from making coherent sentences.

Karen eyed me suspiciously for a moment then glanced over my shoulder. "Oh, here he is," she said, waving her hand in the air so Jim could see where we were.

I twirled around to see Jim walking up the path. I'm not sure how it was possible but he looked even more attractive than he had yesterday. He essentially wore the same thing, only today's shirt was light blue instead of cream, and the sleeves were rolled down. His hair was tousled more than yesterday, hanging low over his eyes and I suddenly felt the urge to brush it off his forehead. I remembered running my hand through his hair last night and the memory made my knees go weak. A broad grin formed on my lips, one that I couldn't contain if I tried.

"Hi, I'm Jim Halpert, Scranton Times," he reintroduced himself as he approached. Maybe it was his way of breaking the strange tension, but I didn't care. I was thrilled that he was really here. "I'm here to do an…"

"I'm so glad to see you," I interrupted, staring into his eyes to let him know how happy I was.

"Oh," he replied, a little taken aback. His eyes wandered lower examining my new shirt and a small smile crept to his lips. I blushed a little, but felt a certain satisfaction that he enjoyed what he saw. "So, it looks like the festival is doing well," he commented, never taking his eyes off me.

"Yeah, it is," I replied. We both stared at each other, smiling.

"Hey, what took you so long to get here?" Karen broke us out of our bubble. She looked slightly irritated but more so because Jim and I hadn't paid any attention to her, not because Jim was late showing up. She gave me a weak smile. "You can never count on him to ever show up on time."

"Hey, that's not true," Jim retorted.

"Oh my god, Halpert, yes it is," she said, giving him an amused smile. There was something odd about the way she looked at him. "And I shouldn't be surprised, even if you did practically beg me to come today."

He shook his head and looked at the ground. "I didn't beg," he said softly.

"Oh, you so did," Karen shot back. "And maybe if you were a little better with electronics you would have finished the story instead of having me come to your rescue…again."

Her teasing didn't seem to bother him. "You just think you're a better writer than I am. That's the only reason why you're here now."

"Oh, that's true," she said rolling her eyes. "Why is this story so important to you anyway?"

Jim looked over at me and gave me a half smile. "It just is."

"Yeah, I don't buy it," Karen said, studying him. She looked over at me to explain. "Our boss can never pry this guy away from any sports story, so the fact that he's given up two to do this is pretty amazing. Not to mention he was hard pressed to come out here to do the original story while I was away."

Karen laughed but I failed to understand what was so funny. I nodded politely though and didn't reply. I was too busy watching her body language, the way she kept smiling up at him, the way she leaned in towards him. It began to make me feel uncomfortable.

"I originally wanted to do the story," Jim said defensively. "I've always wanted to come out to the festival."

"Oh please, you have never wanted to come to this festival with me," Karen responded. "Remember last year you said you were too sick to come out? Then the next week you dragged me to that stupid corn maze."

"Oh right," Jim said, reminiscing on what seemed to be a fond memory. "Didn't we get lost in there for hours or something?"

"Yeah, but that wasn't such a bad time, was it?" Karen asked, gently running her hand over his arm. My eyes became fixated on her hand as it finally stopped and her thumb tenderly grazed his bicep.

Then it hit me, why she seemed so familiar. Christian had mentioned her yesterday. She was his ex. Karen was his ex-girlfriend; the one Christian had said he danced around for ages. My face fell as the realization set it. It was bad enough dealing with Katy yesterday, some how Karen felt much worse. There was more of a history here; I could just sense it. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I felt like I was going to be sick. I turned away, not wanting to be a witness to their moment.

"Uh, maybe we should get started," Jim said, noticing my reaction. He pulled away from Karen.

"Alright, where should we start?" Karen asked excitedly. She didn't seem to pick up on anything wrong. "Pam, you must know where the cool things are."

"I, uh…" I didn't feel much like doing any kind of interview now.

Luckily, Darryl showed up. "Hey, Karen, do you have a bottle of aspirin on you, my head is killing me." He noticed Jim was there. "Oh, hey Halpert. I heard you had a little technical trouble," he commented with a laugh.

"Yup," Jim responded slowly. I could tell he was already getting tired of being teased about the tape recorder. "Something like that."

"I think I have some in my purse," she said as she began rummaging through her pockets.

While Karen and Darryl were busy, Jim pulled me aside. "Hey, I just wanted to apologize." At first I thought it was for Karen or maybe the kiss last night, but it was neither. "I just couldn't finish the article last night. I mean, yeah I ran over the tape recorder, but I just had a hard time writing it, then this morning Josh insisted Karen come and-"

"Oh, it's no big deal," I said, trying to play it cool. At this point I didn't care about the stupid article. "I mean, it doesn't really matter who writes the thing as long as it gets written, right?" I didn't realize how harsh I sounded at the time. I really just wanted to be alone with Jim so we could talk things through.

"Yeah, right," Jim responded distantly.

"Hey, I found some," Karen said loudly, giving Darryl a couple of aspirin. "Oh, and here's some of that gum you like Jim," she said holding out a package. "Want some?"

Jim stared at me for a moment before responding. "Sure," he said eventually, giving her a smile as he took a piece. Karen held the package out for me, but I declined and wished she would disappear all together.

"Alright, let's get started," Karen stated eagerly.

* * *

I decided to give Karen the same tour I gave Jim two days ago, reiterating many of the same points that I originally made. Karen seemed much more interested and came off as more professional than Jim had at first, asking plenty of questions about the types of art presented in the festival along with information about the artists themselves. I answered her questions as thoroughly as possible, though much less enthusiastic than I did on the opening day. Karen didn't seem to notice. The art intrigued her a great deal and the more we saw, the more questions she asked, scribbling down all she could on the pad of paper she had with her.

Meanwhile, Jim trailed a few feet behind us, distant and quiet. His only contribution to the conversation was a sporadic yawn. Every once in a while, I would throw a quick glance in his direction but he would always turn the other way. Karen would also throw a look in his direction, often giving a hopeful smile, but he was as unresponsive to her as to me. I had to wonder, if he wasn't going to be of any help to the paper, then why did he come back and part of me was eager to shake off Karen so I could ask him.

I tried to get through my spiel as quickly as possible but Karen had a million questions and our trek around the park felt like it was lasting forever. We eventually reached the tent with the untitled paintings Jim and I had joked about that first morning. As I spoke about a still life in the corner, Jim wandered to the painting of the six and seven, the first untitled piece he had asked me about, the one that I had given an absurd meaning to as a joke, and stared at it for a while.

Karen, noticing how interested in the painting he had become, cut me off in the middle of my speech to join him. "What is it?" she asked looking amused by his fixation.

"You know this painting represents our place in Western religion?" he said, giving me a half smile as I hesitantly made my way towards them.

"What?" Karen asked surprised. "Where did you read that?" She began to search for a plaque but only saw that the piece was titled 'Untitled'.

"It's my own interpretation," he informed her proudly.

She looked at him dumbfounded then back at the painting to study. "I don't get it," she said honestly.

"See, the placement of the numbers…"

Karen was quick to interrupt. "No, I don't see how you get religion out of it. The artist, Chris Jackson, I've met him. He's a drunk and probably more inspired by a poker game than religion. Pam, you probably know better than I would, what do you think?"

I couldn't help but feel flush. Karen was right about the artist and as much as I loved Jim remembering those details, I had to be honest. "She's right," I said quietly. "But you never know about any painting really," I added quickly.

Jim's face fell and I tried not to meet his eye. "Oh, right," he muttered. "I made that up anyway."

"Oh, well that makes more sense," Karen said. That statement didn't help any. "Great joke, Jim," she said with a smile.

Jim only nodded. He remained silent for a long time.

Not long after, we exited the tent, heading down towards the venders. Karen was interested as to where I had purchased my shirt so I took her to the booth where I had bought it. As we browsed through the clothes, Jim went to the booth across from us to check out model cars.

Karen didn't spend too much time looking through the shirts. While she liked the idea, she didn't find any that caught her fancy. Instead, she found a nearby table that she was much more interested in. One that I wasn't really interested in visiting but she dragged me along anyway.

"I just love these hand made purses," she cooed as she held up a black purse with sequins on it. She started digging through the pile.

"Yeah, they're lovely," I commented, distracted. I looked around, noticed an older, strawberry-blonde woman sitting a few feet back from the table and hoped she was the only one working this booth. I tried to urge Karen to move on but she was too interested in the purses.

"Hey, can I help you with anything?" It was Katy, as pretty and perky as ever, holding a giant box of purses, which she put down under the table. She recognized me immediately. "Hey, Pam, how are you doing?" I couldn't understand how she could be so perpetually cheery.

"I'm alright," I said nervously. This whole situation felt very awkward.

"I love these purses," Karen complimented as Katy began putting more purses on the table for display. "I'm Karen Filippelli, Scranton Times."

"Katy Moore," Katy said, extending a friendly hand. "Scranton Times? You must know Jim Halpert."

"Uh, yeah," Karen replied. "You know Jim?"

Katy gave a smile. "Jim and I go way back."

"Really?" Karen said surprised. She gave Katy the same look I gave her the first time Katy and I met. It made me happy that Jim apparently didn't tell Karen everything.

"Yeah," Katy continued, oblivious to how strange this situation was. "We went to college together."

"Oh, right," Karen's face fell and she looked down at the purses. "So, did you make these…"

As Karen and Katy went into a discussion on purses, I glanced around, scanning the booths for Jim. He was actually on his way over when I caught his eye and I shook my head to warn him. He stopped in his tracks but didn't notice what I was getting at. I nodded towards the table we were standing at. His eyes grew wide and his face paled as he discovered Karen and Katy pleasantly chatting about merchandise. He gave me a quick shocked look before immediately becoming interested in the booth next to where he was standing, which happened to be selling musical instruments.

I decided to slip away to join Jim. Although I mumbled that I was leaving, neither Katy nor Karen noticed that I had left and I was grateful for that. Jim did and gave me a half smile before returning his attention to a small wooden recorder. It gave me a warm feeling and I hoped this would be an opportune time to talk to him about the previous night.

"Hey," I said as I came up beside him.

"Hi," he said not looking in my direction. It made me nervous.

"So, didn't want to join us?" I asked lightly.

He let out a little laugh. "Yeah, facing my worst nightmare? I don't think so." His tone was lighter than it had been while walking with Karen and part of me wondered if maybe she was the problem and not me.

I laughed as well but we quickly settled into silence. I wasn't sure what to say. Spitting out 'Hey Jim, I enjoyed our kiss last night and I'm sorry I pulled away. I'm still very scared of my feelings but I know I really like you,' didn't seem like such an easy thing to slip into conversation. Instead, I inquired about the recorder in his hands. "Do you play?"

"Oh yeah," he grinned and put it up to his mouth, blowing some air into it to create a high-pitched squeal. He attempted to cover some of the holes but it was obvious he had no idea. "See, I'm a natural."

"Yeah, I have no idea either," I commented. There was a small banjo resting next to an array of wooden flutes. "Roy had one of these," I said as I plucked one of the strings, a twang-y sound arising from the instrument. "He got a book to teach himself how to play and proceeded to learn every ABBA song he could because that was his favorite band."

"Oh my god," Jim said in disbelief, though he seemed amused at the thought.

"I know, it was horrible," I continued. "I'll be happy if I never hear a banjo played again."

"I don't blame you," he agreed, placing the recorder back down.

He finally looked over at me, unsure as I was on how to proceed. I took a deep breath in, knowing that if I didn't speak now, I might lose my chance. "Hey, Jim. Um, actually, do you think we could…"

"Excuse me, Miss Pamela Beesly?" A man not too much older than I was, wearing khakis and a sweater vest, eagerly awaited a response. I looked at him oddly, unsure of who he was, while he grinned wildly. He looked me up and down slowly. "Actually, it must be Pam Babe-ly because I must say you are hot!"

"What?" I asked, incredibly confused and shocked as to why this man was checking me out. Jim eyed him suspiciously.

"I'm Andy. Andy Bernard," the guy said, hurt that I didn't know who he was. "Didn't Kelly tell you we were meeting today?"

"Wait, you're Kelly's friend?" I asked, thinking what horrible timing it was that he showed up now.

"Yes, I will be your date for this evening," Andy said sure of himself. "I have plenty of things planned out for us tonight. How do you feel about Frisbee based competitions? There's an amazing Frolf tournament going on later tonight." My jaw dropped a little. I hated Frisbee and it made me wonder what exactly Kelly told him.

"Ah, so he's the blind date," Jim commented, his eyebrows rising as he looked Andy over, a smile spread across his face. Part of me wanted him to be jealous but if I had to guess, he seemed more relieved. After only a short time with Andy, he probably knew Andy wasn't much of a threat.

"How did you know how to find me?" I asked, turning my attention away from Jim.

Andy pulled out an old photo of Kelly and I from his pocket to show to me. "And can I say, you look even more amazing in person."

As eager as he was, I hated to tell him that I couldn't have a blind date now. "Andy, I'm sorry. I don't know what Kelly told you but…"

"So, you're going to ditch him without giving him a chance?" Jim interrupted. I looked up at him surprised he would say such a thing. He gave me a smug smile as if to see how far I would go with it. I titled my head thinking now was not a good time to start playing mind games. Jim continued, "Honestly, Pam. Kelly went out of her way to set you up. She did say he was your type." His sarcasm was thick and he was enjoying Andy being around.

I pursed my lips and wished Ryan had known when to keep his mouth shut. When he and Kelly got back, I was going to give them both a piece of my mind. "So, Andy," I said as kindly as possible. "How do you know Ryan and Kelly?"

"Well, Ryan and I are frat brothers," Andy explained. "Only, we went to different colleges. I went to Cornell, ever heard of it?"

"I'm sorry, what college?" Jim asked.

Andy looked shocked. "Cornell," he repeated.

"Oh, yeah," Jim replied. "I've never heard of it."

Andy shook his head in disgust. "It's only one of the best colleges in the nation," he said. Andy turned his attention back to me. "Who is this guy?"

"Andy, this is Jim Halpert form the Scranton Times," I answered.

Andy's eyes widened, interested. "Oh, so you're like a real reporter."

"No, actually I'm fictional," Jim shot back.

Andy looked confused and I rolled my eyes at Jim.

Karen returned at that moment, finding it odd that there was another person in the group. "Hey guys, what's going on?"

"Oh, Pam has a date," Jim explained happily.

Karen gave me a strange look. "A date? Now?"

"It's a long story," I said apologetically.

"Hey, Andy," Jim said. "You don't happen to play a musical instrument do you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Andy replied happily. "I am marvelously multi-talented in a variety of musical instruments."

"Really?" Jim's eyes grew wide and I knew he was up to something. "Do you play the banjo?" he asked, grabbing the banjo off the table and holding it up.

"Hell, yeah," Andy said taking the banjo from Jim. "I played the banjo in the A capella group I was in when I went to Cornell."

"Wait," Karen jumped in. "If it was an A capella group, why was there a banjo?"

"I'm sorry, what college did you go to?" Jim asked, pretending he didn't know what Andy was talking about.

"Uh, Cornell," Andy answered, not sure what to make of Jim. "Dude, I just told you this."

"Oh, sorry, I forgot," Jim said. "You know what Andy, Pam was just telling me how much she loves the banjo. Maybe you should show off your music skills, I know it will impress her."

I gave Jim a glare; he only smiled back.

Karen seemed irritated. "I don't think we have time for fooling around."

I wanted to agree, stating we should all move on, but Jim insisted Andy play a song. "What would you like to hear?" Andy asked.

"Can you play ABBA?" Jim suggested, must to my distaste.

"I have the perfect song," Andy said, strumming a chord. "If you change your mind," he started out slowly. I couldn't believe this was happening. "I'll be first in line/honey I'm still free/take a chance on me…"

As Andy continued to sing 'Take A Chance On Me', I began to blush. Even though I couldn't stand the sound of the banjo or that song, Andy's sincerity made me feel special. At the same time, it made me feel guiltier about having to turn him down later on. As sweet as Andy was being, I couldn't change my feelings for Jim.

Throughout Andy's performance, Jim shot me amused glances. I couldn't help but think that he orchestrated this whole thing for my benefit as well as for his own entertainment. It made me long for some alone time with him even more.

Karen seemed impressed by Andy's skills. "Maybe you should give him a chance," she whispered to me during the second chorus, interrupting my thoughts. "I mean, he's a little weird, but this is adorable."

My face fell as I realized that not only did I have to deal with Andy but Karen was still an unknown factor in this ordeal as well. I rested my head in my hand and wished life weren't so complicated.

"…Take a chance oooooooonnnn meeeeeeee," Andy concluded, strumming the banjo wildly. Karen, Jim, and I clapped as he finished. As soon as he was done, he grabbed my hand and pulled it to his lips for a soft kiss. "Take a chance on me, Miss Beesly," he said sweetly. My cheeks immediately flushed, I was so embarrassed that he would do all of this in a public area. I noticed Jim's face fell as Andy continued to peck my hand. I pulled it away swiftly and wiped it on my skirt.

"Oh, hey, the recorder," Karen said pushing past Andy and I to be next to Jim, picking up the recorder Jim had played earlier. "Jim, remember when we were going to start our own band? You'd play the recorder and I'd play the kazoo. We even managed to work out 'Yellow Submarine' before we gave it up. Why did we give that up?"

"Um, I believe because we sucked," Jim said with a smile.

"We didn't suck," Karen said seriously. She still cared for him. I could see it in her eyes.

"Really?" he asked sincerely. With the way he looked at her, I feared maybe he still cared for her as well.

"Nope," Karen's lips formed a mischievous smile. "Just you sucked."

He threw his head back with a laugh and gave her a friendly push on the arm, which she returned. I felt like this whole situation sucked.

* * *

Andy, meanwhile, thought his performance was well received, so he began to play again. Karen, wanting to get back to the article, stopped him. While she looked to be having an overall good time, her professionalism shown through and she put the article before enjoying herself. "You know what Andy," she said kindly, "you and Pam can get to know each other this evening but I want to finish this interview."

"I totally get what where you're coming from, my lady," Andy said with a broad grin. "But you can benefit from my extensive knowledge on the world of art. When I went Cornell, I once roomed with a very talented man who worked at an art museum. I visited him twice at work so I believe I have a good handle on the art world."

"Uh, okay," Karen said, giving him a lopsided smile. I'm sure we both concluded that Andy had no idea what he was talking about.

"Do you guys need to get back so soon?" I asked anxiously. "I mean, there is the community dance tonight. If you don't need to get back, you can definitely stay and have a good time."

Karen and Jim looked at each other, both unsure. "Uh, we have a lot going on," Karen answered regretfully. "I mean I just got back and, well, I guess I can't speak for Jim but-"

Karen and I both waited for Jim to answer. Jim looked away. "I do need to get a few things written up," Jim said softly. "You know, I'd love to stay, but I don't think I can…because of work and such."

"Oh," I let out sadly.

"I mean, it's just that, I have to get some work done," Jim continued. "Or else my editor is not going to be happy. The dance looks like it will be a lot of fun, I just…shouldn't."

We stared at each other for a moment. I tried to understand what was going on in his head, but I felt like he had put up a wall that I wasn't able to penetrate.

Andy decided to step in. "Don't worry, Pam," he said putting an arm around my shoulders. "I'll still be here and we will have a lot of fun."

"Thanks, Andy," I said pulling away quickly, aware that Jim's eyes were fixed on Andy's arm.

"Hey Karen, I thought you wanted me to come see that new zombie movie with you tonight anyway," Jim said.

Karen looked confused, "Jim, you hate zombie movies. We had this conversation before I left, I don't care if you don't want to go."

"Well, uh, if you want to," he stuttered. I couldn't tell what he was doing, if he was acting this way because of me or if he really wanted to be with Karen.

Karen looked at him brightly. "Well, sure, if you really want to."

I scrunched my nose, not wanting to hear more of Karen and Jim's evening plans.

"Does the movie have zombie birds?" I interjected, thinking back to our phone conversation earlier. Jim looked at me completely taken aback. "Because it's not a movie worth seeing if there are no zombie birds in it. And if it does, I think I may have found some new inspiration for my art."

Jim gave me a wide smile. "You know what, Pam, I think it does."

"Alright, we should continue on," Karen jumped in, irritated. "You know, Jim, we may cover more ground if we split up. How about you go get a few interviews at the north end of the park?"

Jim wasn't sure how to respond. "Uh, sure Karen. Pam, would you like-"

"Jim, seriously," Karen said, rolling her eyes. There was a hint of frustration in her voice. "Didn't you, like, talk to Pam all day yesterday? I was actually hoping she could stay with me. I'd like to pick her brain on her thoughts about some of the local artists."

Part of me wanted to tell Karen to shove it but there was another part of me that understood Karen was being serious about her job. "I, uh, it's alright, Jim, we'll just meet up in a half hour or so."

Jim took a deep breath in. "Alright then, I guess I'll meet you guys at the pavilion in a little while," Jim said as he turned to walk away.

I wanted to go with him, but my feet felt frozen to the ground. I watched Jim leave and was so entranced in my own thoughts that it took me a second to register that Andy was talking to me. "So, what do you think?"

"What do I think about what?" I asked.

Karen rolled her eyes. "Hey, Andy, isn't there somewhere else that you need to be?"

Andy looked at me then back to Karen. "Uh, no."

I understood where Karen was taking this. "Andy, Karen and I are trying to work. Is it all right if we get to know each other later?"

"Well then," Andy replied, not happy about being asked to leave. "I will just find something else to do," he scoffed before dramatically doing an about face and heading in the same direction Jim had.

Karen let out a sigh of relief. "I'm so glad he finally left."

"Yeah, I'm so sorry about that," I said sheepishly. "A coworker of mine thought it'd be fun to set me up on a blind date. For some reason, she thought Andy would be a good match."

Karen let out a chuckle. "Yeah, not sure about that. Hey, you know if you're looking for a good guy though, I can always set you up with Darryl." For a split second, I thought she was going to say Jim.

"Oh, I don't know," I said, not really wanting to get into it.

Karen pushed anyway. "Really? He's a sweet guy and I promise he's not crazy."

That's great but I have feelings for your ex-boyfriend that I'd really like to explore I wanted to say. I didn't. Instead, I lied. "You know, I'm not really looking to date at the moment. I just got divorced and need to be single right now."

Karen nodded her head but I got the feeling that she didn't quite believe me. Not having anything else to add, I suggested we continue walking through the venders. There wasn't much else to look at until we came across the table Angela had set up. Instead of having her porcelain kittens out, there were a variety of nativity scene figurines. Karen picked up one of the wise men to examine it.

"Isn't a little early for Christmas decorations?" Karen observed.

Angela snatched the wise man out of her hands. "It is never too early to celebrate Christ our Savior," she sneered. Karen gave her a shocked look.

"Angela, aren't you supposed to be alerting the press?" I asked, knowing how angry Jan would be if she found out Angela was selling merchandise instead of doing her job. "I don't see how your personal business is helping the museum."

"I did as I was told," Angela shot back, not happy that I was calling her out. "You skipped out of here early last night, leaving me to clean up this entire park alone. And then, Jan expects me to do your job. I work long hours. I don't get nearly enough time for my cats. And I have to take on more responsibility at work. It's just too much. So I think I deserve the right to sell merchandise at a festival that I helped put together."

"I'm sorry," Karen jumped in. "I know it's none of my business, but if it's about your job, shouldn't you be doing that instead of working on your own agenda, even if your job does weigh you down?"

Angela shot an evil glare at Karen but I had to give Karen props for standing up to her. "I think maybe we should move on," I said before Angela could unleash her wrath on Karen. She obliged and left the venders area.

"Is she always that cold?" Karen asked when we were out of earshot.

"Yeah, she really isn't friendly," I explained. "I wouldn't take it personally though."

"She shouldn't talk to you like that," Karen said giving me a smile. "It's very rude and doesn't help her cause at all."

"Thanks," I returned. "Great job standing up to her by the way. I'm not that good at that."

"Oh, no problem," she replied. I wanted Karen to be the villain in my play, but the more I got to know her, the more I liked her, which made the fact that she was Jim's ex-girlfriend harder for me to reconcile. Later, I would wonder if I was the villain in her play.

As soon as we left the area of venders, Kevin, who looked to be sweating profusely greeted us. "Uh, Ms. Beesly? We sort of have a problem."

I gave Karen a nervous glance. "What would that be?"

Kevin stared dully at me for a moment. "We seemed to have misplaced the chords to our amps."

"What?" I interjected.

"And we will not be able to play without them," Kevin finished.

I groaned. "Can't you get replacement chords?"

"We do not have replacement chords at this time," Kevin said simply.

"Well, what are we supposed to do?" I snapped. This was the last thing the festival needed. If we didn't have a band to play tonight, we didn't have a show. If we didn't have a show then that was it.

"You know what," Karen said, a grin forming. "I may have an idea. Our photographer, Darryl, is in a band. Why don't we just ask him if he can help us out?"

Fifteen minute later, we were up at the pavilion negotiating with Darryl. "So, you really don't mind helping us out?" I asked, thrilled to hear that Darryl had agreed to help out Scrantonicity if his own band, The Warehouse Boys, would be able to perform tonight as well.

"I don't think it'll be a problem at all," Darryl said happily.

I felt relieved. "You have no idea how grateful I am to you right now. You really saved the museum's butt."

Darryl smiled. "Oh, I've heard Scrantonicity play before. I wouldn't want anyone to suffer through that. It's my pleasure." With that, Darryl started the ball rolling and began to call members of his band. Karen gave me a satisfied smile and I had to admit, I was grateful for her being here.

Not long after, Jim returned, Andy in tow. As Jim made his way in our direction, Andy became distracted by Scrantonicity half set-up on stage. Andy ran over and I could hear him clearly state how he wanted to help in whatever way he could.

"I just want to thank you," Jim said sarcastically as he approached us. "For sticking Andy on me. That was fun. He now calls me Big Tuna. Please don't ask why."

I let out a little laugh. "I'm so sorry. We sent him away, I didn't think he'd go find you."

"Nah, it's ok," Jim assured me. "He's not so bad. But really, this guy's your type?" Now he was being serious.

"Kelly set me up, she was the one that made the judgment call," I admitted, glad to have the truth come out. "And no, I don't think he's my type at all."

"Really?" Jim asked interested. "Are you going to tell me that art buffs who can sing ABBA and attend Ivy League schools aren't your type?"

"Oh, no, you're right," I joked. "He is exactly the type of guy I'm looking for."

Karen, who had been looking uncomfortable during our entire exchange, spoke up. "Hey, Jim, guess what. Darryl is playing at the festival tonight."

"That's cool," Jim responded. "Why's that?" Karen and I explained the entire situation to him. "Well, you guys are lucky to get The Warehouse Boys. I've heard them play and they're great. You know what," he added, giving me a smile. "Maybe I will stay and see them. Never want to pass up a chance to support a colleague."

"Jim, you have work to do," Karen reminded him. "And I thought we were going to see a movie tonight."

Jim's face fell. "Oh, right."

"Well, you guys can stay for a little while, right?" I asked hopefully. Actually, although I felt guilty about this, I wouldn't have minded if Karen left.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt if we stayed to hear some of Darryl's band," Jim said. "I mean, we should support Darryl…"

"Jim!" Karen did not look happy about his decision. "What is with you?" She had a hard look on her face. "Look, if you don't want to go see a zombie movie I won't make you but I will remind you that you do have a job to do. We can't stay."

Jim looked as though he didn't know how to answer. "Yeah, work…" he muttered softly. I looked at him intently, wanting him to know I wished he would stay. I couldn't say it out loud, not with Karen right there. He turned his gaze away from me. "Maybe I should help them out," he said, referring to the Scrantonicity band members who were dragging amps up the steps to the stage. Without another word or glance in our direction, he headed to them, leaving Karen and I standing alone.

* * *

Thankfully, Darryl's band was able to make it and although Scrantonicity would still be the featured band of the evening, they graciously allowed The Warehouse Boys to perform with them. Although Kevin never said anything, I really believed that he was also grateful that Darryl had saved the day.

Darryl's group had arrived in record time and was currently mingling with Kevin's band. Andy and Jim were with them. Andy couldn't help himself and insisted he show off his guitar skills, grabbing a guitar and plucking away. Despite how irritating he could be, I had to give Andy props for being an excellent guitar player. Jim was helping Kevin with the drum set and I couldn't help but notice that no matter how many times Kevin dropped a piece of equipment, Jim always had a kind look on his face.

Karen and I stood off to the side of the pavilion watching. Our conversation about various artworks of the festival had dwindled into a silence and we watched the boys for a few minutes. At one point, Jim looked over in our direction and gave a half smile. I was sure he was looking at me, so I gave him one back. Apparently, Karen thought the same thing and grinned broadly, waving at him. Jim's face fell and he returned his attention to the bass drum he was positioning.

"I don't know what is wrong with him today," Karen said under her breath, as her face grew serious again.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked. I had heard her clearly but I wanted to know what she was talking about. Jim was distant when he first got here but had since warmed up, so I was unsure of what she was talking about.

"Jim's…just been acting weirdly today," she responded, her eyes fixed on Jim as he helped Kevin.

"How so?" I asked, trying to sound calm, but my heart rate had picked up again. I wasn't sure how I wanted her to answer.

"Well, Jim and I…" she stopped, looking embarrassed. "You know what, it's really not that interesting."

"No, go ahead," I insisted, maybe too eagerly.

"I don't know," she said unsure. "I'm probably reading things wrong anyway."

"Well, sometimes it helps me to talk it out," I said, wanting very much to hear what she had to say. "And I'm a good listener, it's okay, really."

She gave a faint smile. "Um…" she started, scratching her head. I could tell she was hesitant to confide in me so I gave her a friendly smile. "Jim and I used to date—"

"Really?" I said over-enthusiastically. She gave me an odd look and so I focused on my shoes to hide my interest. "I mean, I could tell you guys have, like, a connection or something, anyway…" I needed to learn when to shut-up.

At first I thought Karen wouldn't continue due to my babbling but she did anyway. "Well, we were off and on for a while," she explained. "Then serious for a while. Then I made the stupid mistake of mentioning we should move in together. And, well, you know how guys are."

"Yeah," I nodded, although I wasn't really sure. All I had was Roy to compare to.

"And I guess we fizzled out after that," Karen said with a sigh.

"How long ago was that?" I asked, interested. Karen gave me another suspicious look. "Just to get a time frame," I added, though I had a hard time looking her in the eye.

"I don't know, almost a year ago," she answered. She looked back over at Jim sadly. "And yeah, it was weird for a while, but we've managed to work together in peace. But then a couple of weeks ago we started getting friendly again." A smile formed over her lips and I shifted uncomfortably. Maybe I didn't want to hear this. "We've been talking and hanging out more lately. I thought maybe he wanted to start things up again. I know I want to."

"Oh," was all I managed to get out. The sick feeling was returning fast.

Karen continued, lost in her memory. "Then the night before I left for my sister's wedding, I kissed him. And it was…"

"Amazing?" I choked on the word.

"Yeah," she said dreamily.

I put a hand up to my face to try to mask the emotion I couldn't hide. The more she talked, the worse I felt. I took a few heavy breaths before I spoke again. "So, he's acting different now?"

She nodded, coming out of her dreamy state. "I get back yesterday and he didn't call. He didn't call at all while I was in Connecticut. I get to work this morning and find that he didn't finish a story, which is odd for him. And he's fighting Josh, our boss, over who gets to do the article. It was originally going to be my story anyway, but he was adamant that he take it. So, we're both here. Then, he insists we don't drive together over here. And all day today he's friendly and almost flirting with me one minute and the next he won't look at me at all. I mean, what could have possibly happened in three days that he's acting so dramatically different?"

I happened I thought, feeling guilty about it. My head was spinning; I didn't know what to think. I was having a hard time with my own feelings but now I began to doubt how Jim felt as well. Was I just a rebound or someone who was just there while Karen was away? Had I misinterpreted something along the way? And none of this was fair to Karen who was obviously very invested in their relationship. She didn't deserve to be in the dark but I couldn't bring myself to say anything.

"Well?" she asked after I hadn't spoken for a moment. "Am I crazy? Pathetically hopeful? Or just way off?"

"Um…" I nervously clenched and unclenched my hands. "Maybe Jim is unsure of what he wants right now," was the best I could come up with. "And maybe you should just talk with him. Be honest. How will you ever know if you aren't?" I could really use my own advice sometimes. "I mean, maybe it's something or maybe there's nothing at all."

Karen nodded, looking relieved. "Yeah, I'm probably blowing this way out of proportion."

"Yeah, probably," I said automatically.

"Thanks, Pam," she said kindly. The nicer she seemed to be, the harder it was for me to deal with the situation. "Seriously, I think after we leave tonight I'll sit down and have a long talk with him."

"No problem," I said, though my head was throbbing. I could feel my eyes begin to well; I had to get out of there. "I think there's something wrong with my contacts," I lied. "I need to go fix it."

"Do you need to borrow some contact solution or something?" Karen asked concerned. "I have some in my car if you need any."

"No, I'm alright," I said turning away quickly and walking away from the pavilion. As soon as I was a few yards away, I booked it to the bathrooms.

Tears were running down my face before I even got there. I put a hand to my face to wipe them off as I quickened my pace. When I reached the brick building, I couldn't hold it in any longer. All of the mixed emotions I had pent up over the course of the day finally released. I placed one hand on the outside wall of the bathroom to hold myself up while the other hand stayed over my eyes in an attempt to keep the emotion in. But the pain in my heart was too much and I began to cry uncontrollably.

Amidst the pain and sadness that overwhelmed me a sense of anger arose. I was the one that had messed this all up. I was mad at myself for pushing Karen towards Jim. I felt guilty because no matter how this ended, some one was going to get hurt. I hated that I rejected Jim last night and hated the fact that Jim seemed to be just as confused as I was. I felt worse now than I had this morning. I didn't know what else to do, so I let myself cry.

"Pam?" a soft voice behind me came. "Are you alright?"

I took a deep breath in and wiped my cheeks before turning around. "Yeah, I'm fine Michael," I responded although I'm sure he could see that my eyes were puffy and my make-up had run.

"You're crying," he said simply.

"No, no it's just…" I tried but I couldn't contain another sob.

"Did someone hurt you?" Michael asked, coming up to place an arm around me. "Was it Roy?"

I shook my head but the thought of having to deal with Roy made me cry harder. "I- It's…" I couldn't form words so Michael took my hand and led me to the grassy patch near where we buried the bird earlier that day and we both sat down. I don't usually confide in Michael but he was being so unusually compassionate that I was able to cry in his presence. He rubbed my back gently as I buried my head in my hands to hide my tears.

"It's alright," Michael said soothingly. "I promise, whatever it is isn't as bad as you may think it is."

"No, I think it is," I managed to get out.

"Well, what is it?" Michael inquired.

Against my better judgment, mostly because talking with Michael right now was better than no one, I told him. "I think I just pushed the guy I like towards his ex-girlfriend," I said with a shaky voice. My tears had slowed and I was able to look at Michael in the eye.

"Oh, that's nothing," Michael assured me. "Last year, I thought Jan was going to get back together with her ex-husband. Then I bought her tickets to Jamaica."

For the first time in a while, I smiled. "You took Jan to Jamaica?" I asked, a little in disbelief.

"Oh, yeah," he said happily. "Over Christmas. We spent the best week of our lives on the beach, getting a tan. Jan loved this nice nude beach where she could show off her fake boobs."

"What?" I just learned more about my boss in the last ten seconds than I ever wanted to know.

"Yeah, she got the fake boobs last year as well. You never noticed?" Michael continued. "They were so small before and-"

"Michael, no," I stopped him, but I let out a real laugh and it felt nice.

"So, who's this guy who you're so hung up on?" Michael asked curiously. "I can talk to him if you want."

"No, that's fine," I said, using the back of my hand to brush the tears off my face.

"Is it Oscar?"

"No, Oscar's—" I stopped, thinking it would be a bad idea to let Michael know that Oscar was gay.

"Is it that date Kelly set you up with," Michael guessed.

I shook my head. "Andy? No." I wondered because Michael was back if that meant Ryan and Kelly had returned as well. I still wanted to speak to her about Andy.

"Oh, it's Jim, from the Scranton Times," Michael said thoughtfully.

"What?" I replied, though I knew there was no use denying that since I was currently wearing my heart on my sleeve.

"I don't know why you're crying over that," Michael said with disdain. "I told you yesterday he had the hots for you."

"Huh?" I wasn't sure what he was getting at.

"Yeah, he told me all about it after I fell out of the tree," he explained. "My leg still hurts by the way. I think I should go to the hospital and make sure it set right."

I ignored his complaints and thought back to that moment in the tent. "Wait a minute, you were being serious?" I asked hopefully. I had been so used to Michael's lies and was doubtful of Jim's feelings that I hadn't suspected that it was all true.

"Yeah," Michael said, disgusted that I didn't believe him. "Why would I lie about that?"

"Well…" I wanted to know everything. "What did he say?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "He just went on and on about how wonderful you are. And he said you were funny. I told him that you never joke around with me, but he didn't believe me."

My jaw dropped. "Oh my god," I said shocked. I gave Michael a grateful smile. "Thank you," I said leaning over to give him a hug.

"For what?" he asked confused.

I took a deep breath in and hoisted myself up. "I think everything is going to be all right."


	13. LoveFool

AN: This chapter has been update to change David Wallace's role. The art judge is now Dr. Vargas after my old boss when I worked at the museum. If anyone can think of an Office character that would go good here, please feel free to drop a line.

* * *

I left Michael sitting dumbfounded by my actions. I didn't feel that he needed an explanation. What was important was getting back to the pavilion to talk to Jim. Unfortunately, I didn't get far. Kelly and Ryan, hand in hand, came out of nowhere to block my way. Ryan looked as though Kelly had dragged him through hell and back. I had no sympathy for him.

I would have walked right past them but Kelly called my name. "PAM!" she screamed, grabbing my arm as I walked by. My level of frustration was growing swiftly as I was on a mission and had no intention of stopping. "Where have you been?" she asked.

"What do you mean where have I been?" I shot back not sure what she was talking about. "Where have the two of you been? Did you make the flyers for the dance and post them like Jan told you to?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Ryan answered with a smug look. On second thought, I decided I didn't want to know what they had been up to and if it wasn't work related, Jan could deal with them. I had other things to worry about.

"I saw your blind date over at the pavilion," Kelly beamed. "So, are you ready to meet him?"

I let out a sigh. "Yeah, Kelly, I sort of already met him."

"Isn't he amazing?" she cooed.

"Look, Kelly, he seems like a great guy, but I just don't think it's going to work out," I said as kindly as possible. Hooking up with Andy was never going to happen.

"What? Why not?" Kelly acted hurt.

"We just aren't…clicking," was the best I could come up with.

"Come on, give him another chance," Kelly insisted. The ABBA song played again in my head and I scrunched up my nose. "He's, like, Ryan's best friend so do it for Ryan."

Ryan's eyes widened. "He is not by best friend," he said seriously. "In fact, he was just this guy that hung around me at one frat part and never seemed to go away." If I didn't know better, I would think that Ryan got Kelly to hook me up with Andy just so he would leave them alone. The sneaky little punk annoyed me but I let it go, having more pressing issues to deal with.

"You know what, we'll talk about this later. I have something I have to take care of," I said hurriedly, hoping to shake them off.

"Oh, do you mean the art contest?" Kelly said casually.

I froze. I completely forgot about the art contest. I was supposed to meet the judge before it started. "Oh my god, what time is it?"

"I don't know," Kelly said with a shrug. "I don't wear watches, they look so tacky."

"It's almost five," Ryan said rolling his eyes at her.

I put my hand to my forehead. "Oh my god," I repeated, beginning to freak out a little. "The contest started almost an hour ago. Is anyone over there?"

"Why would I know that?" Kelly asked. "Ryan and I have been busy all afternoon."

"Shoot," I said, not believing that I had almost blown the contest off. "Now I've really got to go." I said taking off towards the west end of the park where the contest was being held.

By the time I got there a large crowd of people were swarming in and out of the tent that held the contest. I pushed my way through the crowd, making my way into the tent where even more people were crammed in. I had no idea what the judge looked like so I didn't know how to find him but luckily I found Oscar standing in the farthest corner.

"Hey, where have you been?" Oscar scolded.

I wanted to say emotional hell but I didn't think he really wanted an answer. "I'm so, so sorry," I answered as apologetically as I could. "There was this thing…and I got caught up… did the judge show up?"

"Yeah, he called the museum," Oscar explained, a look of disappointment on his face. "He said he couldn't find you so I came back out. The contest is over, they already announced the winners."

I wanted to know who won but since Oscar was here, I asked about the museum's state of affairs. "Have you and Jan been able to work things out?"

Oscar frowned. "Not really. We've talked to Ed Truck's lawyers and there may be some money earmarked for us, but the family doesn't seem to want us to have it. There isn't much more we can do tonight except hope that people show up to the dance. Jan said she'll be back when it starts, but I'd avoid her if possible. She's in a nasty mood."

I nodded. "Alright, I'll watch out," I said. "And thank you so much, Oscar, for covering for me."

"It's alright, Pam. It's been a crazy few days for all of us," a small smile formed on his lips. "Oh, congratulations by the way."

"For what?" I wasn't sure if he was getting at what I hoped he was.

"Go check out your piece," Oscar suggested. "It is rather lovely, by the way. I never knew you had that kind of courage in you."

"Thanks, Oscar," a comment like that from Oscar was a true compliment. "Is there anything I need to do or is this all under control?"

"I've got it," Oscar replied. "Go ahead."

I smiled at him giddily before heading towards my piece. There were two older women chatting in front of it, blocking it from my view. "…such a lovely piece but the girl looks so sad," the first woman was saying.

The other woman nodded in agreement. "I hope the lady who drew this is in a better place in her life." With that, they shuffled over to the next piece, letting me have full view of my work.

There at the bottom of the canvas was a silver ribbon designating second place. I smiled ecstatically, proud that I had talked myself into even entering the contest. Part of me wanted to let those women know I was in a much better place in my life. Looking at the woman in the drawing, I was reminded at just how far I had come in six months. That girl was lost in the woods and maybe now she was just finding her way out.

If I knew what the judge looked like I would have thanked him, but I didn't. I wanted to call my parents and thank them for all the support they've given me over the years but I knew they were still at work. But more than anything, I wanted to tell Jim. I wanted to share this with him. I wanted to-

"This is quite a lovely piece," a taller man wearing glasses and a suit said as he stepped up beside me, breaking my train of thought.

"Oh, thank you," I said looking up at the stranger.

The man tilted his head thoughtfully. "You're the artist, aren't you?"

"How did you know?" I asked.

He gave me a friendly smile. "You look like the woman in the portrait."

I laughed and blushed a little. "Yup, that's me."

He gazed back at my drawing. "I'm impressed by the amount of emotion you were able to portray. May I ask what the inspiration was?"

I was hesitant to respond. It was such a personal piece that I was never sure how to talk about it with people. The drawing represented a time in my life when I was unsure of where I was going, of who I was, what I wanted. How could I explain this to a stranger that the experience of drawing this work was cathartic and helped me move forward in my life? I had no words to express it.

The stranger understood though and smiled kindly, nodding his head. "Ah, I understand," he responded when I didn't. "Personal experience through art. We have all been there."

"We?" I asked curiously.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself," he said holding a hand out for me to shake. "Dr. Vargas, I'm the head of the art department at Penn State."

"Oh my god," I said as I shook his hand. I was shocked and pleased to be in the presence of a man with such high caliber. "Welcome to our art festival. I'm PR for SIA."

"Right, Miss Beesly," he said, "I believe we were supposed to meet before but your colleague, Mr. Martinez, explained that you were busy with museum business."

"You were the judge," I said, thinking I really needed to thank Oscar again for covering me. "Yeah, I, um, had some museum business to attend to. I apologize greatly for my absence."

Dr. Vargas let out a laugh. "Relax, you're quite all right. And getting back to your piece, if I may, it's quite phenomenal. You were able to utilize such a simple technique in such a provocative and moving way. There were so many wonderful works here today, but I was impressed by your use of just pencil."

I was speechless and flattered that such a renowned professor spoke highly of my work. "Thank you," I said again, not able to find the right words.

"Ah, do you mind if I make a suggestion though?" he asked, sincerely unsure if I was up to hearing it.

"Yes, please," I insisted.

"You might try to use all of this negative space in a more creative manner," he said referring to the blank space that took up the top half of the canvas. "Maybe in the future, try offsetting the subject to the side rather than placing it in the center."

"Alright," I said nodding as he pointed out his thoughts. "Stuff to look for, I appreciate it so much."

"Anything to help an aspiring artist," he replied.

I smiled gratefully. "Um, if you don't mind me asking, what did you give first place?"

Dr. Vargas let out a chuckle. "Well, there was a very ambitious young man whose sculpture was made out of Cheetos and duct tape. I had to give him credit for sheer creativity, but it turns out the sculpture looked exactly like him."

I laughed as well, knowing exactly the sculpture in question. "Well, Dr. Vargas, I would love to chat, but I have to go back to work. I'm so glad that you made it all way from Penn State."

"It's been fun, Miss Beesly," he said cheerfully. "I love art festivals of any kind and this one has been a pleasure."

I said goodbye to Dr. Vargas and headed towards the pavilion with a newfound bounce in my step. I was excited, happy and eager to find Jim so I could tell him. Winning the contest had instilled a confidence in me that I haven't felt in a long time.

When I saw the pavilion I quickened my pace. Jim was there, leaning against one of the posts, Karen beside him, both with their backs turned to me. I could hear their voices and what sounded like a tense conversation. I was about to call out when I heard Karen say my name and I froze in my spot, wanting to listen.

"…she told me I should talk to you, so here I am talking to you," Karen was saying. Her voice was hushed, so I inched forward to hear better. Jim's voice was too low to for me to understand. "What's going on, Jim? One second you're you, the next you're not. All day it has been nothing but mixed signals. Just talk to me, Jim."

I was very intrigued by the conversation and moved, as quietly as possible, a few steps closer so that Jim was now audible. "Karen, I-" he stopped, letting out a sigh. "I know what you want, but I'm not sure I can…" he trailed off.

Karen nodded her head, though I could tell from her profile that she wasn't liking what she heard. "I came back early from my vacation because I thought maybe we might have a chance again so the least you can do is give me an honest answer."

There was a pause. I leaned in to listen better. "Here's the thing…I, um, sort of, uh, met someone. And I-It wasn't something I expected to happen, it just-I don't know."

My heart began to race and my stomach turned in knots.

"You met someone?" Karen asked. She didn't believe him. "Who could you have met in the last three days? According to Josh, you've been here the whole time and-" she stopped as it finally had occurred to her what had been going on. "It's Pam, isn't it?" Jim didn't respond. Instead he turned his head away. Karen's voice wavered. "Is it her?"

I held my breath, waiting for Jim to answer. I knew what he would say, but to hear him say it…

"Yeah…" he said finally.

Karen nodded but didn't respond right away. "Well, does she like you back?"

Jim didn't answer and I wanted to tell him desperately that I did, but I bit my tongue. "I don't know," Jim said finally.

"Well," Karen said, sounding very upset. "What now?"

Jim looked as though he were about to speak but was interrupted by Andy who shouted across the pavilion. "Hey-Oh" Andy yelled making me jump. He waved at me. I was suddenly aware that I was only a few feet behind Jim and Karen. Andy came jogging towards me as Jim and Karen turned around, both shocked to see me standing there.

"How long have you been standing there?" Karen asked in an accusatory tone.

"I, uh, just walked up a few, uh, seconds ago," I stuttered. I couldn't meet her eyes. Instead, I looked up at Jim but he turned away.

Karen nodded but I wasn't sure she believed me.

"Anyone up for a little dinner?" Andy asked as he came up. "It's Mexican night!"

Andy was right. A local Mexican restaurant was catering the dance tonight and Andy seemed happy as ever to hear of it. "I love Mexican food," he told us, not at all aware that the three of us weren't in the mood for his antics. "I took two years of Spanish at Cornell. Actually, I took intro to Spanish twice but it was worth it."

"That's great, Andy," Karen said distractedly.

"Oh, and because I helped with the band," Andy continued. "They said I could sing with them tonight."

I let out a tiny sigh. "Andy, I don't think that's such a great idea."

"Why not?" Andy asked confused. "I can totally sing better than half of those guys. Oh, hey, listen to what their drummer Kevin and I just put together in honor of Mexican night." He pulled out his cell phone and played us the ring. It was Andy's voice singing 'La Cucaracha' while Kevin banged on some drums in the background. The ring lasted only about ten seconds before repeating. Andy grinned wildly.

"That's lovely," I complimented, even though by the third time through it annoyed the heck out of me.

"Alright," Andy said. "Who's up for some dinner?"

Karen gave a false smile. "You know what guys, it's been great, but I think Jim and I are going to take off."

"Actually, I'd love to get some dinner," Jim said much to Karen's distaste but it made me smile to hear that he was staying.

Karen gave him a glare. "Well, I guess I have a few final questions. We can finish up during dinner." Karen didn't look too happy to be staying and I felt guilty for wanting her to go.

We all headed out to the Food Tent. There was a line trailing a few people out of the tent and I was glad to see so many people there. Andy got in line first followed by Karen then Jim and I came in last. I worried that it would take a long time to get through the line, but people shuffled through rather quickly.

"So, Karen said you had a problem with your contacts?" Jim asked once we were settled in line.

"Oh, yeah, no biggie," I said as Karen eyed me suspiciously. "All fixed."

"Really, you were gone for a long time," he said. It made me happy that he sounded concerned.

"Right, um," I smiled brightly thinking of my piece. "Actually, I was over where they were doing the art contest. And guess what, my piece came in second place."

"No way," Jim responded, genuinely happy for me. I felt a warm rush sweep over me. Karen looked over and gave me a weak smile. "That's awesome, what was the piece?" Jim asked.

"It was this drawing I did," I explained excitedly. "Um, a self-portrait actually."

"Well, can we go see it?" he asked. "How about after dinner we go over there and—"

"Jim, we can't stay much longer," Karen insisted, cutting him off. "I mean, Pam that's great that you won and I'm sure at some point we would both like to see it, but really we have a lot of work to do if you want this article to be out tomorrow."

My face fell as I realized Karen was not about to let go of Jim so easily. "Well, I guess come out when you can."

"Come on, Karen," Jim persisted. "We can take five minutes and check it out."

Karen pursed her lips. "Jim, you said you wanted to help write this article, so you're going to help write the article. I do not want to be working on it all night." There was a bit of desperation in her voice.

I waited eagerly for a response from Jim, but he didn't get a chance to respond.

"Isn't it the awesomest thing you've heard!" Andy yelled loudly as he made his cell phone ring again. He was only a foot or so ahead of us and played the song to the red-headed woman that was bartending while he danced to the music.

The bartender, whose nametag read Meredith, did not look impressed. "You better shut that thing off and order before I knock your head off," she said fiercely.

Andy gave her a scowl and put the phone on the counter as he proceeded to lean over to see what kind of drinks she had. "Oooh, do you know how to make a Mexican White Russian?" he asked as he reached out to grab a bottle.

Meredith swatted him away. "You're asking for it sweetie. No one touches my booze."

As Andy argued with the bartender, I noticed Jim take the phone off the counter and place it in his pocket. He turned to look at me and winked. Karen leaned over to see what Jim was up to but I don't think she understood. Then Jim must have pushed the button to make the cell go off because Andy's voice drifted through the air again and Jim gave a broad smile.

Andy stopped his bickering and went to grab for his phone. When his hand slammed on the counter and nothing was there, his eyes grew wide. "Where is my phone?" he demanded. He began searching the area, peeking over the counter to see if it had been pushed over but it wasn't there. He then went down on to his knees to see if it had fallen on the ground. I let out a laugh but Karen rolled her eyes at Jim, not impressed at all.

Andy stood back up, a wave of anger sweeping over his face. "Alright, I want to know who took my phone right now," he demanded. He turned his attention to the bartender. "You took it, didn't you?"

"I didn't take nothing," she argued back.

While Andy argued with the bartender, Jim pulled the phone out of his pocket and held it behind him. At first I wasn't sure what he was doing, but he wiggled it to signify that I should take it. I reached over and daringly traced my fingers over his before I took the phone and hid it behind my back. He turned to me, surprised and gave me a devilish grin. Karen had seen the whole thing and my face fell when I saw how hurt she looked.

I continued with the prank anyway and pushed the button on the side of the phone to make the ringtone go off again. Andy became even more flustered than he had before, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.

"Alright, which one of you took my phone?" he accused. He looked squarely at Jim. "Do you have it?" he twitched. Jim held up his hands to show he had nothing and shrugged. "Then where is it?" Andy's voice rose, startling several people in the line. Karen shot Jim and I a fierce look.

I thought it would be best at this point to give it back but then Andy went a little crazy. "Who took my phone?" he yelled at everyone in line. "I want it back right now!" he demanded before grabbing a bottle from behind the bar. Meredith tried to swipe at it but Andy pulled it away. He let out a frustrated scream then broke the bottle against the bar. Bits of shattered glass and alcohol flew everywhere and everyone in the tent froze. The cell phone slipped out of my hands and landed on the ground behind me.

I thought that might be the end of it but Andy let out another frustrated scream, wanting his phone back and slammed a fist on to the counter that was covered with all of the broken glass. He let out another scream, this time one of pain, and a tickle of blood started to flow on to the counter. Andy withdrew his hand and looked at us sheepishly.

"I think I may need a Band-Aid," he said remarkably calm.

"Come on, Andy," I said, placing an arm around his shoulders. The least I could do was help him fix up his hand. "I'll take you to the medical tent."

"Hey, missy," Meredith called out to me. "I ain't cleaning up this mess myself."

"I'll help you," Jim offered, starting to gather the glass in his hand.

"Andy, here's your phone," Karen said, retrieving it from the place I had dropped it. She gave me a glare, but didn't mention that it was Jim and I that took it. "You must have knocked it over here."

"Thank you," Andy said sheepishly as he put the phone in his pocket.

Andy and I walked silently over to the medical tent. His hand was bleeding down his arm and so he covered it with his left hand. I thought he may have expressed more anger and pain, but he was strangely cheery. A blonde woman, with a nametag reading 'Elizabeth', replaced yesterday's nurse, Dana.

"Hello, Elizabeth," Andy said sweetly as we came over to her.

"Oh, wow, what happened here?" Elizabeth asked.

"He sort of had an accident with a bottle," I explained.

"I see that," Elizabeth responded, immediately cleaning out the wound. "It doesn't look too deep, but let me dress it for you." Andy and I remained quiet as Elizabeth did her work, cleaning Andy's hand, applying some Neosporen and giving him a few bandages.

"I'm sorry about my over-reaction," Andy said finally. "I have been attending anger management classes lately, but sometimes I get pushed over the edge. I can promise you it will not happen again."

I let out a little sigh. He didn't need to apologize for anything, it was my fault for not being honest with him sooner. "There's no need to apologize," I said truthfully. "Andy, I think we-" This was harder than I thought it would be. Despite the fact that he went nuts a moment ago, Andy did have a likable quality to him. "You're a sweet guy."

"Thank you," Andy replied grinning. "Maybe I can interest you in going out to desert tonight."

"Uh, thank you but no thanks Andy," I said, hoping he wouldn't go into another rage. "I don't think you and I are going to work. I'm sorry."

"Oh." The smile remained plastered on his face, but his eyes showed he was disappointed. "Well, that's alright. I guess I wasn't feeling the vibes."

"Yeah," I said, giving him a half smile. "But we can still be friends."

"I think I would like that very much," Andy returned.

"You're welcome to stay at the festival as long as you like," I suggested, thinking that Andy as not a date would be more tolerable. "The community dance is tonight, so you should be able to meet people that way."

"Oh, I'll be here, the band offered to let me sing," Andy reminded me.

"Right," I said, still not really believing that.

"Besides, there was this lovely blonde selling Jesus statues," Andy continued, "that I think may be into me."

I thought about it for a second. He might have been talking about Angela, a thought that made me laugh. "Go for it," I encouraged.

Andy and I parted ways after his hand was bandaged. He headed towards the pavilion, where in a short time the dance would start, and I went back to the Food Tent ready to face whatever would be waiting for me there. The mess Andy made had been cleaned up and the museum owed the bartender only one bottle of vodka, which was manageable. I told Meredith everything would be taken care of if she never mentioned it to Jan, which thankfully she never did.

A slight worry that Karen and Jim would have just taken off swept over me, but I was relieved to find the two of them sitting next to each other with a plate of food at a table in the corner. I waved to Jim and Karen to signify I was back. Jim gave a half smile but Karen half heartedly waved back. I got myself a burrito, beans, and a bottled water even though I wasn't hungry at all and grabbed a seat across from them.

"So that was crazy," I said trying to sound casual as I took my seat. It wasn't working so well. "Andy's going to be alright, it wasn't as bad as it looked. And we decided that it would be best to part ways."

Jim gave a slight smile at that. Karen, however, frowned. I wasn't sure if she disapproved of how we treated Andy or just that I existed, but she was looking to leave as soon as possible. The charade of finishing the article would prove to be a tedious task, as none of us could really say what we were thinking.

I picked at my food, thinking about how I should ask Jim to stay while Karen asked me her final questions.

"So, activities for the next few days," she said. I noticed she had a false energetic tone. Whatever enthusiasm she had for her work when I first met her had long slipped away. "I think it would be great to give a list so our readers would know what to look forward to."

"Well, there's the fireworks show tomorrow night," I explained. My mind was not in work mode and I had to concentrate to come up with what was going on this week.

"Oh great," Karen said. "And what time does that start?"

Before I could answer, Jim let out a noisy yawn. Karen looked over at him annoyed. "What?" he asked, seeming not to understand what was bothering her.

"I'm sorry, am I boring you?" she asked, dropping the nice act. I knew Karen had to be on edge.

"What? I yawned," Jim replied confused. She continued to stare at him, causing him to stare at his plate. "I didn't get enough sleep last night," he mumbled. I blushed a little, thinking it was because of me that he didn't sleep well. I tried to hide my face behind my hand, but Karen noticed.

"Well, you know, getting a good night's sleep is an important thing," I said trying to make light of an uncomfortable situation. But what was coming out of my mouth was less than admirable.

"Really?" Jim said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Oh yeah, I read somewhere, or watched on the Discovery channel, this thing about how people need to enter a dream state before hitting the unconscious state so that they can be fully relaxed and that gives a good night sleep," I explained. I couldn't believe I was talking about sleeping cycles. It was worse than the conversation about zombie birds. I trailed off my words and went back to poking my burrito with my fork.

Jim nodded but looked more confused than anything. Karen was again annoyed. "Anyway," she said wanting to get back on topic. "About the fireworks show…"

I continued to talk about the week's upcoming events. As I did, I noticed Jim's lack of interest. I wanted to get his attention, let him know I wanted him to stay, but I had no idea how to go about it. I had already proved I was horrible at flirting. A daring idea popped in my head, one I wasn't sure I could pull off, but I figured at this point, what could it hurt?

Karen continued her questions and I answered to the best of my ability. While that went on, underneath the table I slipped off one of my shoes. My heart began to pound as I realized I was actually going to try getting Jim's attention in a more physical manner. I lightly brushed one pant leg and waited for Jim's reaction. He was still focused on the other things around him. So, I tired again, this time my foot wondered lower, seeking the end of pant leg. With a deep breath, I slipped my foot underneath the edge of the pants. There was something wrong about his leg. It felt unusually…smooth?

"What are you doing?" Karen asked her eyes wide.

I recoiled my foot immediately, blushing profusely in embarrassment. "I was just…stretching," I managed to say, pushing my arms out to demonstrate. "I'm sorry, did I hit you?" Jim shot me an amused look and I couldn't have felt worse. I wanted to just die.

"Jim, do you think you can get me a cup of coffee?" Karen asked, her eyes never wavering from me. Jim looked at her as though it were an odd request. She turned her attention towards him. "Please?"

Jim hesitated a moment before getting up. "Your usual?"

"Yeah," Karen responded.

"Pam, do you want anything?" he asked.

I shook my head, fearing what would happen when Jim finally left. I really didn't want to have any sort of confrontation with Karen, but unless I got up and ran away, I would have to endure anything she threw at me. The confidence I had gained from winning the art contest was slipping away and I felt like a scared little girl.

Karen remained stone-faced and silent for a moment. Maybe like me, she wasn't sure what to say. "I know this is a weird thing to bring up," Karen started. "But…" she swallowed hard before asking. "Do you like him?"

I could see worry in her eyes, which made it hard for me to come up with a response. I was so nervous I was nearly shaking. "Yeah, sure," I said as casually as possible, though my squeaky voice gave me away. "He's a great guy."

Karen tilted her head. She knew I was purposely avoiding the question. "No, I meant…are you interested…in dating him?"

"Oh, no," I said a little too quickly. I squirmed in my seat and began picking at the cold beans on my plate.

Karen's face relaxed a little. "Sorry to put you on the spot like that. It's just that Jim said—"

"What?" I asked interested.

She shook her head. "He just said you guys hit it off really well yesterday and I thought-You know what, never mind."

"Oh, right, yeah we did," I said not seeming able to control my mouth.

"You did?" she asked, trying to read me.

"Well, like, uh," Karen staring intently at me was causing my nervousness to grow. "I mean, we're friends. Just- friends."

"So, nothing happened between you guys."

"Yes."

"Yes, something did?"

I was incredibly flustered. "Oh, I mean no."

"No?"

"I mean, we, uh, had a lot of fun hanging out and he took me home cause I don't have a car and then he kissed me-" It just slipped out. I hadn't meant to say that but the words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Karen looked shocked. "He what?" she asked immediately.

"Oh, uh, that didn't mean anything," I said trying to recover.

"But he kissed you?" there was hurt in her voice.

"Yeah, just to say goodbye," I said quickly. "Really it didn't mean anything because you said you guys were close. And Jim and I aren't close; we just met. I mean, yeah, he's a really great guy, well not like, uh, you know what I mean? Yeah…"

Karen looked lost and I didn't blame her with all the backtracking I was doing. As much as I didn't want her to get hurt, as much as I didn't want to be the bad guy, my true feelings seemed to seep through the lies.

"Okay then," Karen said simply. Neither of us knew where to take it from there. Luckily, we didn't have to say anything because Jim had return with a cup of coffee for Karen.

"Hey, they didn't have decaf," Jim stopped when he saw that both of us were frozen in our spots. He set the coffee down. "Did I miss something?"

Karen shot up out of her seat. "Pam and I finished everything up. I think we're set to go." She started to walk away.

"What's going on?" Jim asked, very confused. He looked over at me for an answer, but I didn't have one to give. He then turned towards Karen.

"Jim, can we please talk for a moment?" Karen asked.

Jim hesitated. I nodded my head slowly, signifying it was alright. I thought that whatever else happened, it was only fair that Karen and Jim work things out first. Jim waited a little longer before following Karen.

I waited until they left the tent before I got up, throwing my uneaten food in one of the trashcans. I felt stupid for what I said. I felt even worse for my actions. But if I had the chance to rewind time and do it again, I wasn't sure if I would have been able to do anything differently.

I came to the edge of the tent to watch Karen and Jim meander through the crowd of people. I wasn't sure if they were speaking or not and soon they would be too far away to even tell. Part of me wanted to follow, but I knew that wouldn't be a good idea, so I continued to watch. They made it all the way to the fountain when Karen suddenly started throwing her hands in the air. They were arguing, that much I could see.

I was about to go closer when I was stopped again by the reality of my job.

"Hi, Miss Beesly," It was a tall man with grey hair and bifocals. We had met before. "It's Gordon Franklin, channel 7. Remember from a couple of days ago?"

"Yes," I said nodding, remembering how sleazy this guy was. He hadn't hesitated to hit on me a couple of days ago when we met and I was annoyed that he was again checking me out. "Can I help you?"

"Just wanted to let you know we're set up to cover the community dance tonight," he said with an obnoxious grin. "Maybe if I'm lucky, I'll get you on the dance floor as well."

I gave him an unpleasant look. "No, I don't think so," I muttered as I looked away. I knew I had screwed many things up in the last twenty-four hours. And I knew that I had to get back to my job, which I had been neglecting all day. I wanted very much to know what was going on between Jim and Karen, but I had to refocus my priorities. And although I had just won second place in an art contest and gained the respect of a renowned professor, I felt like I couldn't catch a break. I looked up at the sky and sighed. Congratulations universe, I lamented to myself, you win.


	14. For Lovers

Mr. Franklin followed me to the pavilion where the dance was about to start. The place was nearly full and while I was thrilled to see so many people in attendance, I was not in the mood to attend a giant party. Mr. Franklin didn't help, giving not so subtle hints that he wanted to ask me out during the interview. I answered his questioned as quickly as possible and tried to point out that he should really be focused on the dance itself. Luckily he took my hints and left me alone after we finished the interview.

My interview with the TV reporter wrapped up around the time the dance officially started. Jan had finally returned and made her way up to the front of the pavilion to welcome everyone to the dance. While her face was plastered with a false smile, I knew better and concluded that the financial bind that we were in had not reached a solution while she was at the museum.

After Jan had given her welcoming speech, Scrantonicity started in with their Police covers. The sound was somewhat disconcerting, but luckily, Darryl's band was right there to take over. The two bands would go on switching throughout the rest of the night.

I moved to the back of the pavilion and leaned against the far post looking at all the happy people dancing and having a good time. I should have been happy. I should have loved that so many people had come to the festival that I coordinated but I just couldn't be. I struggled with the idea of going back to the fountain or maybe the parking lot to see if Jim and Karen had left. But I was able to stop myself. I respected Jim and Karen enough to let them figure out whatever issues they might have despite what my feelings were. So, I kept to myself, watching all the happy people enjoy themselves.

I saw Michael wandering around, following Jan. It was interesting that Michael tried so hard for someone who didn't seem to care for him back. Was Jan really worth it, I wondered. Maybe Michael was just that lonely. Jan still looked irritated at his presence but I had to give him credit for not giving up on her.

As Michael crossed the pavilion in an attempt to follow Jan, he passed Ryan and Kelly who were dancing with each other. Despite being a fast song, the two were wrapped up in each other's arms. I never understood how Kelly could tolerate such a jerk or how Ryan could tolerate Kelly's insistent nagging, but after watching the two of them together, both staring longingly into each other's eyes, I thought that they might actually sincerely care for each other. Ryan gave Kelly a tender kiss on the forehead and Kelly let out a giggle. The two of them had a little glow about them, which I never really noticed before. I felt slightly envious of it.

I turned my attention away from them and spotted Andy who was dancing wildly around the pavilion. His energy was contagious and the people around him seemed to light up and become more enthusiastic in their dancing. Andy was a good guy, I thought, and I felt guilty for the way I had treated him. A smile climbed on my face as I noticed that Andy was singing as well as dancing.

Over in the front corner of the pavilion, Angela stood with a scowl on her face, which didn't surprise me any. Angela couldn't stand dances or music for that matter. I watched, amused, as Andy found his way to Angela and proceeded to encourage her to come out on the dance floor. She protested, as suspected, but I thought I saw the corner of her mouth twitch, as if she were happy to get Andy's attention and even though I knew she would never get out on the dance floor, I noticed that one of her feet began to tap to the beat.

"Hello, Pam." It was Phyllis who approached me, accompanied by a large man that I recognized as her boyfriend. "How come you're standing out here all alone? Don't want to join in the fun?" She was smiling broadly, looking as cheery and energetic as everyone else here.

I shrugged, not wanting to go into it with her. "I've had kind of a long day and don't really feel like celebrating anything."

"Oh," Phyllis said, disappointed in my answer. "Well, we've had a pretty good day." She smiled up at her boyfriend. "You remember Bob Vance of Vance Refrigeration, right?"

I shook my head, nodding in Bob's direction. "Howdy," Bob said, giving me a salute.

Phyllis was absolutely beaming. She could hardly contain herself. "Bob Vance and I are getting married," she said excitedly.

My eyes widened and I couldn't hide the little bit of shock I felt. "Well, congratulations," I said, trying to sound as kind as possible. While I was sincerely happy for her, I didn't feel like hearing about people getting engaged. "That's really wonderful," I added, possibly laying it on too thick, but neither Bob nor Phyllis noticed.

"Show her the ring," Bob insisted. He looked down lovingly at her.

Phyllis held her hand up to me. On her ring finger lay a large, gaudy diamond set on a thick gold band. Bob Vance must have gone all out to get such an expensive looking thing. "It's beautiful," I complimented.

"Isn't it?" she giggled. "We want to get married pretty quickly. We were thinking next month, the eighteenth."

"Wait, September eighteenth?" I asked quickly. Oddly, Roy and I had gotten married on that date. "Any particular reason?"

"No," Phyllis said innocently. "We just liked the date. And you know you'll be invited."

"We're inviting everyone from the museum," Bob added. "Except Michael Scott. I do not want that man at my wedding."

As Phyllis began to protest over the guest list they had created, a sense of loneliness swept over me. I didn't want to go to a wedding alone. The thought of having to sit there, while watching other people get married, and everyone else feeling joyful about the occasion would just remind me of my own failed attempt at happiness. And the date being my old anniversary would make it so much worse.

At the time, I remember thinking of what a wonderful day my wedding was but looking back it was far from that. Roy had shown up late and I spent the whole morning worrying that he wouldn't even show up. The cake never arrived due to a mix up. The caterers had cooked way too many meals and Roy and I were forced to eat leftover chicken and fish for weeks. And Roy's parents had insisted on inviting everyone they knew, including old work buddies, one of whom got drunk and spilled whisky on my dress.

"I'm sure it will be rather lovely," I said to Phyllis, stopping the argument.

"Oh, it will be," Phyllis replied, smiling once again. A slow song started to play and Bob took Phyllis's hand to lead her out on the dance floor.

Oscar came beside me not much longer after Phyllis left. "Hey there," he said kindly. I think he could tell I was in a bad mood and wanted to be friendly. He nodded at where Phyllis and Bob were dancing. "Did you hear they're getting married?" he asked.

"She just told me," I said not wanting to say more on the subject.

Oscar was rather perceptive and said no more. Instead, he turned his attention to Darryl's band, which currently playing. "So, when did we hire another band?" he asked. I explained to him the situation with Scrantonicity. "Did you talk to Jan about this?"

"No," I shook my head. I had definitely not been on my game when concerning work today. "Should I have?"

"Well," Oscar began, concerned. "I'm assuming the band is going to want to negotiate some sort of payment for their services. Did Darryl mention anything?"

"I don't remember," I said honestly. I rubbed my head, thinking about how much more upset Jan would be if she had to learn she needed to hand out money we didn't have. "I'm so sorry about this, Oscar."

"Well, it sounds like we had to do something about the band or else it would have been a disaster," Oscar admitted. I was grateful for his reaction. "Hey, I hope you don't mind me asking but are you alright today? You've seemed very tense lately."

Oscar caught me off guard with his question. "Oh, no, I'm fine," I said quickly.

He eyed me suspiciously. "Well, if you need a friend…"

"Thanks, Oscar," I said, giving him a smile. He knew I wasn't being completely honest, but he also knew when not to push.

"I'm going to go get something to drink, do you want anything?" he offered. I shook my head and he left me standing alone.

I felt secluded from everyone, after Oscar left, trapped in my own self-pitying bubble. The sun was beginning to set, spreading an orange glow around the park. I figured once night fell everyone would be fully engrossed in the dance and I could sneak away from the festival early. But then I thought of my empty apartment waiting for me and decided being in the company of many strangers was better than having the company of no one.

Time seemed to drag by slowly and as much I as tried to focus on the atmosphere of the dance, my mind kept slipping back to the same thing it had all day: Jim. I couldn't believe what a mess I had made. I had heard him say that he cared for me. He had showed me how much he cared for me and all I did was run. And then I had made a fool of myself, in front of his ex-girlfriend no less. His ex-girlfriend who wanted him back.

I shook my head, getting the image of Karen out and letting the memory of last night resurface. I closed my eyes, remembering how he held me in his arms, how his lips felt against mine, how…

A hand brushed my elbow and I was jolted back to reality. "Hey there." It was Jim. My cheeks immediately flushed. I couldn't believe he had come back but even more so I couldn't believe he interrupted my thoughts of him. "I'm sorry, did I startle you?"

"No, it's just…I didn't expect…" I stumbled over my words. I took a breath before I could continue. "I didn't think you were coming back."

"Ah, yeah," he said with a grin. "You know, wanted to see my colleague's band. Show my support and everything. Be a good coworker."

By just the look in his eyes I knew Darryl was not the reason he returned and it gave me a warm feeling inside. "Oh, right," I joked back, keeping up our friendly guise. "Your coworker. I'm sure without you here he wouldn't even be able to perform." We both let out a laugh before we slipped into an awkward silence. "So, um," I wasn't sure how to ask the nagging question on my mind. "Did Karen decide to stay as well?"

Jim hesitated for a second, making me worry for a moment that Karen had stayed. "No," he said finally. "She decided to go home. She said she could finish the article without me."

"Oh," I said disappointed. I had hoped there was more to it than that. "So, are you guys—"

"No," Jim responded quickly. He knew what I was asking and stared at the ground unsure of how to continue. "I think you should know that, um, before Karen left for her sister's wedding, she, uh, she kissed me…"

"I know," I interrupted. "She told me about it…"

"Oh," Jim replied surprised. "Yeah, um, she kissed me and…" he paused for a moment, thinking hard. "She kissed me and I didn't feel anything. Not a thing. So, I told her that. I didn't think it was fair for her not to know the truth. That we have no future. It's not what she wanted to hear. And she screamed and yelled and said a lot of unpleasant things and went home saying she wanted to be alone."

"I'm sorry, Jim," I said sympathetically.

Jim turned to me, giving me an intense look. "I'm not," he stated simply. I blushed a little, not sure how to respond. But I didn't have to because Jim changed the subject. "Looks like the dance is going well," he commented.

"Yeah, it's a really great turnout," I added. I clasped my hands together nervously. Suddenly, I really wanted to be in a place where there weren't so many people.

"So…" his eyes gazed the crowd. "Do you want to dance?"

"Oh, I don't dance," I said, thinking that I had embarrassed myself enough for one day.

"Come on," he insisted. "Who doesn't dance?"

"Me," I answered. "Really, I look like the biggest dork when I dance."

"Well, doesn't everybody?" he offered. "Look, there is nothing to be embarrassed by," Jim said, taking a few steps away from me and on to the dance floor. He began to move his arms and legs in an outward motion in an attempt at dancing to the fast paced music. The fact that his long limbs created such bizarre angles and the fact that he was purposely trying to be a bad dancer, was too much for me and I began to laugh hysterically. "See, you aren't the only dorky dancer," he called out to me, grinning. "Come on, it's not so bad."

But before I could, the music stopped and was replaced by a much slower song. "Well, Miss Beesly," Jim said, stopping his crazy dance to talk to me closer. He offered his hand. "Hypothetically speaking, if I wasn't here just to support a coworker and you were my date tonight, I would insist on a dance."

"Well, Mr. Halpert," I responded, placing my fingers in his open hand. I wished he hadn't said hypothetically. "Hypothetically, I accept."

We moved out onto the dance floor. My hand trembled as I placed it on his shoulder. Jim's hand grabbed my waist, careful not to stray too high or low. Our free hands entwined, both palms a little sweaty.

We stood about two feet apart as Jim guided me slowly around the dance floor. "You know, hypothetically, if you were my date, I'd have to do this." I felt pressure on my waist, as Jim's hand pushed me closer to him so that our bodies were now touching.

My heart began to race and I felt a rush as the warmth of his body swept over me. "Well, as your hypothetical date, that means I could do this." I rested my head against his chest, listening to the sound of his beating heart.

We stayed like that, swaying through the entire song and the next, no words spoken between us, just enjoying being held by each other. When the next song went into a faster beat, I clung to him, not wanting to let go. Jim squeezed me in a warm hug, before letting his arms drop. I hesitantly broke away.

"Too bad this is totally a hypothetical date," he said into my ear, his cheek brushing mine.

"Yeah," I replied softly. The evening breeze swept by and suddenly I became very cold.

* * *

Jim and I stared at each other, not sure of what to do. I didn't want to dance any longer and I definitely didn't want to be in the middle of this crowd. I turned and motioned Jim to follow me to the edge of the pavilion. He did.

I stopped a few feet outside the pavilion on the path leading out to the rest of the park. Jim came up beside me, placing his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his feet. He looked as nervous as I felt. Here I was, finally having a chance to tell him that I cared for him too but I didn't know how to do that. I wasn't even sure how to begin such a conversation.

Instead, I stared at the grass and muttered, "Thank you for the dance. It was, uh, really nice."

"Uh, sure. No problem," he sounded unsure of how to take that. There was another strained silence before he spoke again. "Would you like to take a walk?" he asked, staring out into the nearly deserted park.

I let out a little breath of relief. "Yeah, I would," I answered, giving him a gentle smile. "I could show you the piece that won second place," I offered. "If you're interested."

"I'd like that," he responded, sounding genuinely interested.

We walked silently side by side towards the other side of the park. There were so many heavy unspoken words between us that small talked seemed impossible. I didn't mind the quiet so much. Just the fact that he was walking beside me was giving me quite a rush. At one point, he took his hands out of his pocket and I eyed the one that fell dangerously close to mine. I was half tempted to reach out and grab it, longing to feel his skin against mine again but I couldn't bring myself to do it and instead held my hands behind my back for the rest of the walk.

There wasn't a soul in or around the tent when we arrived, which I was grateful for. My portrait was located in the far corner but Jim stopped at the entrance where the sculpture that won first place stood.

"Oh, please tell me this is it," Jim said with a smile, admiring the statue built of snack food and duct tape.

"No, that won first place," I explained.

"Are you sure it's not yours?" he joked. "It looks just like you."

"Jim, that was modeled after a guy," I returned with a grin.

I watched as Jim's eyes traveled lower, eventually growing wide. "Well, I guess I stand corrected."

"Mine's over here," I said pointing to my piece.

Jim's gaze fell to the one next to it, a painting of the profile of an older pale man with pointy ears, dressed in a high collared black cloak. "Pam, are you trying to tell me you're secretly a vampire?"

I shook my head and let out a laugh. "Oh, right," I said, sarcasm thick in my voice. "That's the reason I really brought you out here. So I could suck on your neck to satisfy my bloodlust."

Jim shot me a wicked grin. "That may be worth it."

I blushed. "Um, so, this one's mine," I said referring to my actual artwork.

Jim's attention turned to my portrait and suddenly I felt very exposed. It was, after all, a nude drawing of myself reflecting one of the darkest times in my life. I waited, nervously, as Jim's eyes scanned the portrait. At first, I was afraid he may make a joke or two but he remained serious as he studied it.

"Wow, Pam…this is just…" he seemed genuinely impressed, which put me at ease a little. He turned to look at me. "It's beautiful," he complimented.

I hadn't realized I had been holding my breath until he spoke. "Thank you," I let out.

"Really, its just…amazing," he continued, looking back to the drawing. "Is there any, uh, story about it or is it just…something you did?" He didn't seem sure how to talk about it but I could see the wonder in his eyes.

His sincere curiosity made it easier for me to talk about the portrait. "I drew it after my divorce," I said honestly. I felt I could open up to him, share the dark thoughts that I had kept only to myself for so long. "It was a hard time and sometimes I felt that only drawing could express what I was feeling. I mean, I don't know how to explain it exactly, I just needed to get all of my emotion out and this portrait was a great release."

"I think you captured it well," he commented. "I mean, I don't know what- it's just that here…you just look so…sad." He gave me a sympathetic smile. "I can't imagine what that must have been like for you. I don't think I've ever felt so deeply…" his voice trailed off deep in thought. "Do you still feel, uh, how do I put this? Is she still you?" he asked, referring to the girl in the drawing.

I pondered the question. I thought I had moved on from her, had pushed her far away but maybe I had never truly dealt with her. She was still a part of me; the part that kept me from moving forward with my life, the part of me that was scared to do so. It was time to tell Jim the truth about how I felt because I wanted to move forward and I wanted him with me when I did.

"Jim, I feel like I owe you an explanation," I said quietly, my voice shaking. He looked at me very interested in what I had to say. "About last night, I-"

"Pammy?"

I knew that voice and cursed my ill luck. A darken figure approached us and although his face was masked by shadow I knew exactly who it was. I wished that it were anyone else.

"Pammy, I saw you come in here, so I know it's you." Roy's voice was slurred as he stumbled towards Jim and I. He gazed at me, a drunkenly stupid look on his face. "I told you I'd come back, I told you…" His eyes shifted behind me, attempting to focus on the portrait. "That's you," he pointed out. "How come I've never seen that before?"

"Because it's recent," I replied calmly. I knew what Roy was like when he was drunk and I had no intention of sparking his temper, especially not with Jim right there. "Why did you follow me, Roy?" I asked.

"You know…" he mumbled. "You know…" he didn't finish the statement. Instead, he wandered close to the drawing, his nose almost touching it. He began to giggle. Jim gave me a confused look and I shook my head not knowing how to respond. "Did I ever tell you," Roy started again, "that your art. It is the most beautiful art out of…all the art." He waved his arm around to signify he was comparing the portrait to everything else but I'm sure he didn't know what he was talking about.

"Roy, how much did you have to drink tonight?" I asked concerned.

"Why do you care?" he snarled.

"Just because we're not together anymore doesn't mean I can't care," I said. As much as Roy had been a pain to me in the past, I didn't want to see him or anyone else gets hurt. "Why don't we get you some water and we'll sit down to talk, alright?"

"No, we can settle this here," Roy said, waving his arm around again, this time nearly knocking into one of the portraits.

I was a little scared of what Roy might do. Thankfully, Jim noticed this and tried to help. "Come on, man," he said kindly to Roy. "Tell you what, I'll buy you a beer and you and Pam can have a nice chat back at the pavilion."

"What's it to you?" Roy snapped at Jim, causing Jim to jump back a little.

"Um, Jim," I started thinking fast on how to defuse the situation. "I'd like a beer, how about we head back over to the pavilion." I figured if we left, Roy would probably still follow, but at least Jim and I, as well as the artwork, would be safer. I didn't usually fear that Roy would physically harm me, but the anger he showed tonight, mixed with the alcohol was making him seem very unpredictable.

Jim and I started to leave when Roy bellowed my name. "Pam!" I jumped a little. "We need to finish this," he yelled.

Jim came to my side, almost protectively. "Come on," he said to Roy again, though even his voice was shaky as he was probably just as unsure of what Roy would do. "Let's go to the pavilion."

He eyed me suspiciously, and then glared at Jim before settling on me again. "I still want that beer," he sneered as he pushed past us and out of the tent.

* * *

Roy and I were standing near the pavilion; lots of people and noise surrounding us, making me feel easier about the situation. Jim had just left to grab us some drinks, also letting Roy and I have a moment alone.

"Well, Roy, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?" I asked not sure if I wanted to hear what Roy had to give me. He seemed to have a lot of anger pent up and while I'm sure I deserved some of the brunt for having avoided him for so long, I don't believe I did any wrong doing by ending our marriage.

"What's the deal with that guy?" Roy asked, referring to Jim. He was still staring in the direction that Jim had left.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, annoyed that now that he had my attention he didn't seem to want to talk about was on his mind.

"Seems like he got a private showing of your artwork," Roy commented nastily.

I shook my head to protest. "It wasn't a private—"

Roy wouldn't let me finish. "You never invited me," he accused.

"Roy," I said flabbergasted. "Why would I invite you to things now that we're no longer together?"

"You never showed me your art when we were married," Roy shot back.

"It's not like I didn't want you to see what I was working on," I reminded him. "When I was taking classes, there were plenty of times, plenty of art shows you could have attended. But you chose not to. Instead, you went and played poker with your brother and your drinking buddies."

"You never invited me," Roy insisted. "I would have come."

I let out a sigh. "That's not true," I said, feeling like I've had this discussion before. Roy had a habit of distorting the past to make him look better but I didn't feel that I needed to constantly defend myself anymore. "But you know what, Roy, I'm not going to argue with you. Especially not while we're in public." I thought Roy may protest more but instead we settled into an uncomfortable silence.

Roy and I weren't the only ones having issues to sort out that night. I could hear Jan and Michael's voices loud and clear before I saw them emerge from the sea of people.

"Jaaaaan," Michael whined. "Can't you take one little moment and talk to me? Please?"

Jan stopped only a few feet away from me but was so irritated with Michael that she didn't notice I was there. "Michael, do you really think now is the appropriate time to have this conversation? Despite the fact that this place currently is set up like a high school prom, we are still at work and you have to remember that. I have a financial backer that has died and the museum is faced with bankruptcy. The band that was hired wants to work out some sort of payment, which I don't think I can give them. And I just found out that my boss, the head of the board, is coming in a few days to evaluate me. I could possibly loose my job."

"But Jan—" Michael started to protest.

Jan cut him off. "So, what do you want from me then? Really, Michael, what could you possibly expect from me right now? Do you want me to just let you do me right here where everyone can see?" Her voice was thick with sarcasm. "Alright, Michael, I don't care about my job, lets just have sex and be happy."

I knew Jan had lost it when she didn't seem to be aware of what she was saying in public. Apparently, Michael was just as shocked to hear it.

"I don't know if we should do it right here, there are a lot of people," Michael said, completely missing the point. "Maybe if you want to go back to the car…"

Jan let out a frustrated growl. "Michael, why don't you just go jump off a building," she snarled before stomping away.

Michael let out a defeated sigh and paused only a moment before heading after her.

I had been so engrossed in Michael and Jan's arguing that for a moment I forgot that Roy was standing next to me. It wasn't until he grabbed my wrist that I was jolted back into my own situation. "What are you doing?" I asked, struggling a bit to get away from Roy's grasp. He wasn't holding that tight and my wrist slipped away from his fingers.

"Why don't we dance," Roy suggested.

"What?" I asked in disbelief. "I thought you wanted to talk."

"I'd rather dance," he said playing for my hand but I took two steps back to get out of his reach. "Pammy, why don't you just come dance with me, then we'll talk."

"No, and don't call me Pammy." I said firmly. During our entire marriage, Roy always dictated what I would do. One reason I left was so I could make decisions on my own. I felt that I had grown since the divorce and I wouldn't let him cause me to slip in to old roles so easily. "I'm not Pammy anymore."

Roy towered over me. "Come on, you'll always be Pammy."

"No, I won't," I insisted. "You know what, I think I'm going to call your brother and he can pick you up. I'll come see you another day. I can't stand to be around you when you're like this." I pulled my cell out of my pocket, about to give Kenny, Roy's brother, a call when Roy grabbed my hand again. This time his grasp was tighter as he tried to pull me to the dance floor. "Roy, stop," I said trying to get away from him. "Stop!"

"Hey man, I think she wants you to let her go." It was Jim who came up behind us, two beers in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He looked very stern and I was grateful that he had finally returned. Roy, however, was not pleased that Jim had butted in. He dropped my hand and sized Jim up. "Calm down, man," Jim persisted taking a step back. "I don't want any trouble."

While Roy remained glaring at Jim, I took the opportunity to call Kenny. It was short and to the point as I quickly explained that Roy was drunk and needed to be picked up. Kenny obliged willingly and said he'd be over at the park as soon as he could get over there. Kenny knew as well as I did what Roy could be like under the influence and didn't want Roy to get in any trouble.

While I was on the phone, Jim continued to get Roy to back down, but it proved to be a difficult task. "Hey man, why don't you take it easy," Jim was saying.

Roy continued to edge closer to Jim. "Why don't you take it easy," he shot back. "And give me my beer," he grabbed for one of the bottles but Jim pulled it out of his reach.

"Here, I got you some water," Jim said, holding the plastic bottle out to Roy. "I think you need to sober up some."

"I don't want water," Roy sneered, advancing closer. Jim continued to go backwards off the sidewalk and onto the grass.

"Knock it off Roy," I said, now off the phone. I tried for Roy's arm but he swatted me away.

Roy continued to stare down Jim. "If I wanted water, I would have asked for it." He snatched the water bottle away from Jim and threw it behind him where it hit Ryan, who had been dancing with Kelly at the edge of the pavilion.

"What the hell are you doing?" Kelly asked, instantly irritated that anyone would disrupt her dance with Ryan. She approached Roy with no fear. Roy spun around surprised to hear her.

"Kelly, this isn't our fight," Ryan said grabbing on to her arm and trying to pull back. By the looks of it, Ryan was the one scared of getting involved.

"Ryan, you're being such a coward," Kelly scolded. "He hit you with a water bottle and all you're going to do is pretend like it was an accident.'

"I'm sure it was an accident," Ryan said trying to pull her away.

"No," Kelly protested, breaking away from Ryan. "He can't just throw things at people and expect that to be just fine."

"Kelly, please don't provoke him any more," I warned. I didn't want any more people involved in this than there already were. I didn't even want Jim to be involved. I was torn between anger and embarrassment but more than anything I just wanted Roy to leave. I hoped Kenny would get here as soon as possible.

"If this guy would just give me my damn beer, we wouldn't have a problem," Roy shouted loud enough so that more people stopped dancing and stared. Roy snatched one of the beers away from Jim easily. "Was that so damn hard?"

Jim looked a bit humiliated and I gave him an apologetic look; hopefully this would all be over soon. He turned away, obviously avoiding eye contact. He probably wished he had gone home and I didn't blame him. He was unfortunately placed in the middle of a fight he didn't ask for.

"Are you happy now?" I asked Roy, now so upset that I was beyond words. "You got what you wanted and made a scene while doing so. Why don't you wait for Kenny in the parking lot? He'll be here soon."

Roy finished chugging half the bottle of beer before responding.

"Am I happy?" Roy let out a vicious laugh. "Do you really think that this is the state of a happy man?" His voice rose with each word. "All I wanted is for you to listen to me. But did you ever do that? No, you didn't. We could have settled this months ago but no, you were too busy. You're always too busy for me. Would it have killed you to just take a few minutes out of your time? Just a few? You pushed me to this point, Pam." His voice was very accusing. "You are responsible for this." He took the bottle and violently smashed it against the pavement causing the entire crowd to stop what they were doing and watch Roy.

"Roy, you've got to stop," I pleaded. I hated all of the attention on myself. I hated that it had gotten to this point even if there was some truth to what Roy was saying, that it was partially my fault since I hadn't dealt with this sooner.

Roy came towards me. I wasn't sure what he was about to do but luckily I didn't have to find out because Jim pulled on Roy's arm to stop him from getting any closer. "Don't touch her," Jim warned.

Roy spun around angrily. "Yeah, what's it to you?" he said shoving Jim. Jim, not prepared, stumbled back a few steps. The other beer bottle in his hand slipped down and cracked on the ground. Because Jim didn't attempt to fight back, Roy continued with another shove. "What, are you some kind of pansy?"

Anger swept over Jim's face as Roy pushed him again. "Roy, leave him alone," I called out but Roy was no longer listening. No one else made a movement. A tense wave swept over the crowd.

Roy gave Jim a final push before Jim finally snapped and pushed back, knocking Roy away a few steps. Roy was momentarily stunned but cocked his fist and before Jim could react, Roy punched him right in the eye, knocking him to the ground. Jim's head hit the pavement and he was out.

"NO!" I screamed, lunging at Roy to get him to stop before he could do anything else. I wanted more than anything to make sure Jim was alright but Roy had to be dealt with right away. Kelly and Ryan, thankfully, flew to Jim's side.

"Someone go get the nurse," Ryan yelled. The crowd became alive again and a few people took off toward the medical tent.

"Who the hell is disrupting my festival?" Jan had come forward looking more pissed than I had ever seen her. She eyed Roy fiercely. "What the hell did you just do!"

Roy turned to me, his face pale. Between punching someone out and Jan's accusation, Roy looked like he had sobered up remarkably fast. "Oh my god," he began to chant. "Oh my god, oh my god."

Jan's question remained unanswered as all eyes went to Nurse Elizabeth who had just arrived to take care of Jim. I was so angry that I could hardly contain it and was on the verge of beating the crap out of Roy myself. Knowing that Jim would be alright when I got back, I grabbed Roy's shirt sleeve and dragged him in the direction of the parking lot.

"C'mon," I said, the anger simmering below the surface. "I'm going to personally escort you out." Roy came willing, still a little stunned at what just happened.

* * *

"I can't believe you did that Roy. I just…can't." Roy and I had made it to the parking lot. Just out side of the gates, underneath a street lamp, there was a wooden bench. Roy sat on it, hunched forward with his head in his hands. I was pacing back and forth in front of him, my arms crossed over my chest. I was so angry I could barely speak.

This day couldn't have gotten any worse. It was bad enough that the festival was doing poorly, our financial backer died, the band we hired stunk, Kelly set me up with a bad match and I had to deal with an ex-girlfriend all day but my lout of an ex-husband just had to add to my misery by humiliating me and punching out the guy I had feelings for in front of everyone. The day sucked. The whole day sucked and I was ready to burst.

"I can't believe I did it either," Roy said. He had become much calmer and clear headed once we made it out to the parking lot. "I can't believe I- I…I really messed this one up, didn't I."

"Yes, you did," I said sharply. I wasn't a violent person by any means buy I wanted to hurt him. I just wanted to tear him apart but I knew it wouldn't make me feel any better.

"I'm sorry, Pammy- Pam," his voice trembled a little. He was no longer the scary tyrant that had belittled me earlier. He now looked like a lost little boy. "I'm just…so…sorry."

I stopped pacing to look down at him. My anger wouldn't be subsided any time soon but I knew that I was partially responsible for the outcome of the day. If I had just talked to Roy earlier, paid any kind of attention to him, he wouldn't have been driven to take such drastic measures. I sat down beside him and let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry too," I said after a moment of silence.

"You're sorry?" he asked in disbelief. "What do you have to be sorry about? You're not the one who made a fool of himself in front of an entire art festival. Geez-" the reality of it was finally sinking in. "The whole damn festival."

I gave him a half-smile. "I'm sorry because I kept pushing you away. I mean, after our divorce, I put you and the marriage and everything from my old life and shoved it in a box in my head and hid it away. I think this is just a culmination of all of it. So, I'm sorry because I could have prevented all of this."

Roy returned the smile. "I didn't know it was so bad for you."

"What?" I asked not sure of what he was talking about.

He let out a sigh. "The marriage. I mean, I know at the end we sort of just…fell apart but there were some good times too, right?"

"There were some good times," I said, though I was hard pressed to remember any of them right then.

"So, then what happened?" he asked.

The fact that he had to ask that said so much. "Don't you remember fighting all the time?" I asked. "And we would never do anything together. Near the end, we were just two people living two separate lives who happened to live in the same house. That's not a marriage."

"Oh," Roy said lowering his head. "I guess I was oblivious."

That was an understatement. "Roy, do you remember the night I got a promotion to be head of PR."

Roy thought hard for a moment. "No," he said finally.

"I came home," I started to explain. I could recall this memory so clearly. "I was so excited that I was finally advancing at work and I came in and you were there, watching a basketball game with some of your friends. You didn't even say hello, Roy. I told you later that night but you were still pumped over the game. It wasn't until a week after that you noticed I came home later. And that's when I knew. That's when I knew it just wasn't right anymore."

A pained look crossed his face. "I guess I…I should have-"

"I don't think it would have mattered," I said honestly. At this point Roy deserved to know the truth. "You and I had run our course a long time ago."

"Oh, right," he responded softly. I wasn't sure if he was disappointed in the answer or possibly relieved. A reflective silence fell between us. "I'm sorry I punched out your boyfriend," Roy said eventually.

I felt my cheeks growing warm. "Oh, he's not- I mean Jim's not-" I had become completely flustered. "Jim's just a reporter for the Scranton Times."

Roy looked surprised and almost amused. "That guy is just a reporter from the Scranton Times? You've got to be kidding me."

"What?" I asked trying to play it cool.

"I don't get you," Roy said shaking his head. "I mean, the guy took a punch for you and all you can say is that he's some reporter?"

"Well, we just met," I responded. As much as I was trying to hide my feelings, I couldn't help but wear my heart on my sleeve. "I guess you could say we're friends and-"

Roy rolled his eyes. "Well, from what I saw-"

"What did you see?"

Roy swallowed hard before responding. "I've actually been here for a while," he admitted. "One of the reasons I got so mad was- I couldn't help notice- I was watching you with him, laughing, talking…dancing. When I saw you with him- the way you looked at him, Pam. I know that you have never looked at me like that. Ever. And the way he held you. I thought you guys were together and I just couldn't handle it and-" He stopped, not really wanting to go further. "I guess I just don't buy the just friends act, Pam."

"Oh." It was my turn to be surprised by Roy's words. Were Jim and I that obvious? Maybe the only people we were fooling were ourselves. "I think you and I aren't the only people who have things to work through," I said to him.

"Whatever," Roy said dismissively. "You'll probably end up marrying the guy."

I blushed a little again. "Roy, we've only known each other for three days." Roy shrugged.

In the distance, a black SUV was coming into the parking lot. I recognized Kenny in the driver's seat. "Well, I guess that's my ride," Roy said standing.

I joined him. "Um, before you go, what was it that you needed to talk to me about so badly?"

He looked at me strangely as if unsure of what I was saying. "I thought that there might be something that I needed resolved. Like, we didn't end things right or something. But after tonight…I don't feel that any more."

Closure, I thought, he wanted closure. He needed closure to move on. As we hugged goodbye and I wished him well as he joined his brother, I thought that we might have gained just that.

He wasn't the only one who needed to say goodbye. As much as I had fought it over the last few months, I needed it as well. I thought I had been moving forward, living a new life, doing new things, but had I really gotten that far? Wasn't there a part of me that was still that girl in the self-portrait?

Roy was gone and that part of my life was wrapped up. Officially wrapped up as of tonight. But I had been scared to make any forward movement in life since my marriage had ended. It's why I hadn't tried to advance with my art or even change my hairstyle. It's why I ran away when Jim kissed me-

Jim.

It hit me so hard that it was almost overwhelming. He was more than just a reporter. So much more. I had to find him, had to tell him, had to show him how much I cared. I've never felt so sure of anything in my life. I turned around and headed back into the park towards Jim.


	15. What Am I To You

I headed back into the park almost at a run. I could hardly contain myself, I was so eager to get back to Jim. Here I was, this bundle of anxiousness, nervousness, and excitement on a nonstop course to tell the guy I had fallen for my feelings. A few hours ago, I was afraid of doing so. But now I was afraid no longer and the thought of this made me grin.

I could see the light at the pavilion and hear the band playing, which made me step up my pace. The closer I got, the more frantically I scanned the crowd for Jim, but did not see him anywhere. I knew he couldn't have left because he would have passed me on the way to the parking lot so he had to be somewhere. I spotted Kelly and Ryan just outside the pavilion and thought asking would get me to my destination faster.

When I reached them, however, I could hear that they were in the middle of an argument.

"I can't believe you," Kelly was screaming. "I can't believe I have been with such a cowardly jerk for the last year."

"Oh, I'm a coward huh?" Ryan retorted. "I was protecting my best interests. And yes, that means saving myself over you…"

"Hey, guys," I interrupted, not caring when they both shot me glares. I had to rest my hands on my knees to catch my breath. "Where's Jim?"

They both stared at me blankly for a moment. "They took him to the medical tent," Kelly informed me. "But this loser couldn't be bothered to…"

I didn't hear what Ryan couldn't be bothered with because I quickly thanked them and continued on my way. I reached the medical tent in no time and my breath quickened the moment I entered. Jim sat on the cot holding an ice pack up to his eye. He said nothing upon my arrival and remained stone-faced as I took a seat next to him.

"Hey," I said giving him a smile. He stayed silent and I didn't blame him for being upset. I would have felt the same way in his position. "How is it?" I asked, wanting to make sure Roy hadn't hurt him too badly.

Jim brought down the ice pack to reveal a very purple eye that was swollen shut. "It's sore," he said simply. "Like my ego. I assume both will heal eventually."

"Jim, I'm so sorry," I said earnestly. "I had no idea that Roy was going to do that. I mean, I knew he was getting rough, I just didn't think--He doesn't usually get physical."

"Right," Jim said sarcastically. "He seems like he's usually a level-headed guy. It happens to the best of us."

He wasn't going to make this easy for me. "No, Jim, really," I continued. "I'm sorry. I wish none of this happened." I paused, not sure how to continue. "Were you out long?" I asked.

Jim grimaced. "No," he said, replacing the ice pack on his eye and stared at the ground. "I was conscious enough to see you go off with Roy."

I shook my head and said the first thing that popped in my mind. "That wasn't--I was just trying to make sure Roy got home alright."

"Oh, sure," Jim said, his good eye growing wide. "I can see why you'd want to make sure he was alright."

I realized how bad that sounded and started to correct myself. "No, Jim, look--" but I didn't get far because Kelly suddenly burst into the tent.

"Pam, you've got to come now," she said between breaths. As annoyed as I was that she interrupted, Kelly never did anything at a quick pace. "It's an emergency."

"Are you sure?" I asked. An emergency to Kelly could mean she was out of mascara. "This can't wait a little while?"

"No." Kelly was dead serious. "Michael's on top of the pavilion claiming he's going to kill himself."

"What?" I asked. That was definitely not what I was expecting to hear. "And you're sure this isn't some joke?"

"He said he's totally upset that Jan dumped him," Kelly explained quickly. "And that he's totally going to end his life because he's depressed and he can't stand Jan not paying him attention anymore. I know that you've helped him out before so I thought you might be able to talk him down. Isn't this the most romantic thing he's ever done?"

I ignored her absurd statement and shot a sheepish grin at Jim. "I'm sorry, I don't want to leave but I have to--"

"Go," he said, though I could tell he was unhappy about the turn of events. "I'll be fine."

I didn't want to leave Jim but I couldn't let Michael jump off a roof either. Reluctantly, I stood up and left with Kelly. As Kelly and I made our way back to the pavilion, I had hoped that this was some sick joke Michael was trying to pull but when we arrived, Michael was indeed on the roof looking extremely upset.

The entire festival, including all of the band members, had gathered around to witness Michael's display. "I just want to kill myself," Michael was moaning as we approached. "This is the end for me," he cried dramatically.

"Where's Jan?" I asked.

"We aren't sure," Kelly replied. "The bathroom?"

"Yeah, some how I don't believe that," I said. "You don't think she's avoiding dealing with this, do you?" Kelly and I pushed our way through the crowd so we were directly below where Michael wanted to jump.

"How could she miss this?" Kelly was strangely excited about the situation. "Ryan would never jump off a building for me."

Angela, who was standing near us, spoke up. "This is gross and disturbing behavior. You shouldn't encourage it."

"I saw on Grey's Anatomy once," Kelly recalled fondly, "that this guy fell, like, six-hundred feet and still survived."

"This isn't a Grey's Anatomy episode," Angela reminded her. "This is a real situation. A man's life is at stake."

Kelly scoffed. "You're just saying that because you don't like Grey's Anatomy. You never want to watch it. If you did, like I suggested, you would have a solution to this situation."

"Hey, Michael," I called up to him, worried that with his taste for the dramatic flair that he might actually jump. "Why are you doing this?"

Michael looked down at me sadly. "I'm like that bird we buried," Michael called down to me. "I'm going to die alone. No one loves me. Jan doesn't love me anymore." He was getting choked up.

"Michael, you aren't like that bird," I tried to assure him. "Look at all the people here around you. None of them want you to kill yourself."

"How do you know that?" he asked in disbelief. "Did you take a poll?"

I looked at him strangely. "Yes, Michael, I took a poll and no one wants you to die."

"You're just saying that, Pam," he shot back. "If I die, I want to be buried next to that bird."

Oscar came forward to give it a try. "Michael, this is a very bad idea," Oscar started, concerned. "This pavilion is only twelve feet high. If you jumped from here you probably wouldn't die but you would break every bone in your body. It would hurt very much."

"Oscar, why are you trying to scare me?" Michael asked, not completely understanding what Oscar was getting at. "Don't you want me to do this?"

The statement shocked Oscar. "Michael, no, I don't want you to do this," he replied. We were all now very concerned that he was going to jump. Michael inched forward and the entire crowd gasped.

Phyllis, with Bob Vance at her side, came forward. "Michael," she shouted up to him. "Bob Vance is going to make you an offer if you don't jump."

"What's that?" Michael asked, suddenly sounding curious.

"I'll give you a brand new fridge," Bob offered, "if you come down right now."

"Could I get it in cream instead of white?" Michael asked.

"Any color you want buddy," Bob replied.

"What about blue with rhinestones?" Michael asked.

Bob gaped, his mouth hanging wide, unsure of what to say to that. But before he could offer anything else, Jim emerged from the crowd, eye still purple, and the ice pack at his side. I smiled, pleased to see him there but he avoided eye contact with me. Instead, he focused his attention on Michael.

"Hey, Michael, remember me?" he called. "It's Jim from the Scranton Times. Remember we talked yesterday? And you said I should never give up? Maybe you should use your own advice. Killing yourself would just be giving up. I didn't give up."

"And you got punched in the face," Michael reminded him.

Jim grimaced. "Michael, believe me, Jan's probably not worth the pain of jumping off this roof. I know it seems hard now, but if you come down, you'll eventually be fine, move on. If a woman is pushing you to kill yourself then she's too much trouble. You're probably better off." He looked at me hard and I couldn't help but wonder if that was some passive-aggressive slight towards me and hoped that wasn't how he truly felt.

Michael contemplated Jim's words. "But it hurts so much," Michael cried.

"I know, I know," Jim said reassuring him.

Finally, Jan, appearing from nowhere, arrived looking frantic. "Michael, what are you doing up there? You have to come down, you'll hurt yourself and you're embarrassing yourself in front of the entire festival."

"You never cared about me," Michael accused in a whiney voice. "I mean, look at all I've done for you. I let you stay at my place when they kicked you out of your condo because you couldn't make rent. I took care of you after you got food poisoning at that restaurant where you threw up everywhere. I held your hair back, remember? And I know that you have low self-esteem about your breasts but I encouraged you to get the boob job. And I know you say it's uncomfortable now but they feel almost like real ones…"

Jan looked humiliated but was able to keep her composure. "Michael, I do care," she said almost soothingly. "Look, I know I've been rough on you and have treated you like dirt for nearly our whole relationship. But I've just been tired and frustrated lately. And you have been great to let me take it all out on you, but that doesn't mean I don't care. I do care, Michael, and I don't want you to jump."

Michael hesitated. "Does this mean we can get back together?"

Jan pursed her lips. "We can definitely talk about it but not until you come down."

Michael paused for a little bit longer while the rest of us held our breath, waiting for Michael to come to a decision. "Alright then, Jan, I'm coming down," he said finally. The entire crowd burst into applause and Michael grinned broadly, loving that he was getting all the attention. "I want that blue rhinestone fridge," he called out to Bob Vance as he made his way to the ladder.

I clapped along with the rest of the crowd and let out a relieved laugh. I couldn't help but give Jim a grateful smile but he only gave a forced half-smile back, a gesture that worried me.

* * *

"Hey, uh, I think I'm going to get going," Jim told me. Michael was down, the dance had started up again, and Jim looked as though he was anxious to get out of there.

"No, wait," I said frantically. He couldn't leave, not yet. I had finally mustered enough courage to tell him how I felt and I wasn't going to just let it slip away.

"I really can't," Jim said. "I've got some work stuff to get done and--yeah, I should probably go." I was unsure if he was telling the truth or not. He started to move past me but I quickly grabbed his hand to signify I wasn't done with him yet. He gave me an odd look.

"Jim, I just have something I've gotta say," I told him, raising my eyes to meet his good one. "Please, just hear me out and if you still want to leave after that, you can."

Jim's jaw clenched but he nodded his head. "Alright," he stated simply. It was apparent that he was done talking and all forward movement had been placed in my hands.

"Look, about—" I started but couldn't get very far because of the yelling occurring next to me.

"I want to talk to the director or person in charge," a middle-aged brunette woman was shouting. I noticed it was Angela who she was shouting to.

Angela looked fierce. "I already told you, Mrs. Allen, our director is currently busy and the stance of the museum is apologetic to your trouble. We can assure you that there will be no future…"

Mrs. Allen cut her off. "That's not good enough. I want someone in charge."

Angela looked directly at me. "Pam, you are the PR person. Can you spare your personal time and actually do some work?"

My cheeks flushed as I realized I had been so lax on my job lately. I shot Jim an embarrassed smile because I knew this had to be dealt with now as much as I didn't want to deal with it at all. "Can you wait just a minute?" I asked him. He gave me an annoyed look. "Please," I said, almost sounding like I was begging. "This should only take a few minutes."

There was a pause before he spoke and I almost thought he was going to say he couldn't wait. "Sure," he said finally with little enthusiasm. "I can wait a few more minutes."

Despite that I hated turning my back on Jim, I faced Angela and Mrs. Allen. "What's going on?" I asked.

Kelly seemed to pop up out of nowhere and came up to my side. "Angela's lack of social skills is going to get the museum sued," she explained snidely. Angela scowled at her.

I felt that Angela and Kelly fighting wasn't going to help the situation any better. Instead of waiting for some sort of explanation from Angela, I addressed Mrs. Allen directly. "Hi, ma'am, I'm Pam Beesly, I work in PR for the museum." I held my hand out for her to shake it but she declined. "What seems to be the problem?"

"My name is Barbara Allen," she started, sounding very aggravated. "And besides the complete lack of cooperation I've received from your staff, I want to say that I am appalled by the display here tonight. Was the suicide scare an attempt at a bad joke? If so, I can not tell you how much in bad taste that was."

"I can assure you, Mrs. Allen," I said as kindly as possible. "That was no joke. Unfortunately, one of our employees is going through some emotional times right now and is going to be seeking help." I thought to myself that no matter how much help Michael could get, it would never stop him from doing crazy things. "I am sorry for the distress it has caused you—"

Mrs. Allen interrupted me. "My children were with me," she said growing even more upset. "My husband has taken them home, but I stayed so that I could see some sort of action being done."

I was unsure of how to handle this. "Uh, is there anything I can do for your? We could refund your money or give you free tickets to one of our upcoming events."

"Do you really think that I will be attending one of your events ever again?" she snarled. "No, like I was telling this woman," she pointed at Angela, "I want to speak to your director."

I let out a little sigh. "Alright, let's find her." As we started to leave, I shot Jim an apologetic look. He didn't look too happy about it but there was nothing I could do. I couldn't afford to lose my job.

Jan and Michael weren't too far away, they were still at the base of the ladder Michael had used to climb up onto the roof. She and Michael both looked somewhat happy and I regretted having to bring Mrs. Allen to them.

"How can I help you?" Jan asked after I had explained the situation and introduced Mrs. Allen to Jan. Kelly and Angela had come with me as we were all interested to see what kind of demands this woman would make.

Mrs. Allen gave Michael a hard look. "I want that employee to be terminated until his emotional outbursts have been reigned in. I want the museum to pay damages for my children's traumatic experience. And I want a public apology to be issued in one of the newspapers."

Jan scrunched her nose. "What?" she asked in disbelief. "That is a little much, don't you think? I'm sure we can come to some other kind of resolution."

"I am not emotional," Michael interjected much to Jan's dismay. "You're emotional," he accused Mrs. Allen.

Mrs. Allen looked at him in shock. "See what I mean?" she said to Jan. "Clearly this man is unstable and unfit for a public job."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Allen," Jan said, "But you have no jurisdiction over who I employ in my museum."

Michael looked as though he wanted to say something else, possibly that Mrs. Allen was unstable, but Jan shushed him before he could say too much.

Mrs. Allen continued her rant. "And to be honest ma'am, I think that you are unstable too and should resign. Any woman that causes a man to try to commit suicide is not someone I want as a director of a museum my children visit."

"Wait, what?" Jan said clearly insulted.

Even I had thought Mrs. Allen was taking this all too far. "Mrs. Allen, don't you believe we can work out a more reasonable bargain?" I asked trying to keep both parties calm.

"No, Pam," Jan said curtly. "I'm sorry Mrs. Allen, what you're proposing is clearly unreasonable and I suggest we schedule an appointment where we can talk this through."

"They are not unreasonable," Mrs. Allen persisted, obviously insulted that we weren't listening to her demands. "If this matter isn't taken care of now, I will see you in court."

"We're not going to do this here," Jan said, her temper rising. Usually she was able to keep her cool, but after all that happened, she was finally becoming short tempered with guests as well as her own staff. "We will see you in court Mrs. Allen."

"Jan, are you sure—" I started, but Jan cut me off with a glare.

"Alright then," Mrs. Allen said. "I will talk to my lawyer tonight and will see you tomorrow morning." She sneered at Jan before turning around and walking away. Jan was seething while the rest of us stood in shock.

"Excuse me, Ms. Beesly," it was Gordon Franklin, the TV reporter. I groaned as I realized he had probably heard that whole thing. "Would you like to comment on the current legal situation concerning the outraged Mrs. Barbara Allen?"

"No comment," I said knowing that the museum's situation just worsened. We couldn't afford to be sued and I was annoyed with Jan for losing her tempter with the woman, even if she was off kilter. And I knew that Mr. Franklin, after not getting a statement from us, would side with Mrs. Allen because she would talk.

But at that moment, I didn't care about any of this. I just wanted to get back to Jim. I stood on my toes and craned my neck in attempt to spot him in the crowd. A strong fear swept over me as I couldn't find him. He had no obligation to stay and I was very worried he left until I spotted him on the other side of the pavilion, pacing back and forth. I couldn't see his expression but I knew if I wasted any more time he would leave.

Just when I thought all the drama for the day was over, I saw Phyllis run out of the crowd and heard her scream.

* * *

"STREAKER!" Phyllis yelled, pointing to the left of me. I whirled around to see an older man, completely nude, walking along the side of the pavilion. Phyllis kept repeating 'streaker', catching the attention of everyone at the festival, but the man didn't seem to notice. Instead, he was casually walking along, as if it were not a big deal, snacking on a banana.

"Oh my god," I whispered to myself as the old man approached Phyllis. How much more insane could this day get?

"Hey-ya," he said, smiling broadly. Phyllis paled as she took one long look up and down. "Want a bite?" he asked offering the banana. Phyllis looked like she was going to be ill. When she didn't take the banana, the old man shoved the rest of it into his mouth and grinned.

"Oh, that's disgusting," I heard Angela mutter from behind me.

Bob Vance had pushed his way through the crowd to be with Phyllis. "What are you doing flashing everyone?" he yelled at the old man.

The old man looked confused. "I'm naked?" He glanced down and looked pleasantly surprised. "Oh, look at that. I noticed it was a little chilly."

Bob Vance shook off his jacket and handed it to the man. "Here, take it, so at least you can cover yourself up and, uh, I think I'll let you keep it."

The old man happily put the jacket on. 'Oh, free stuff," he said as he wrapped it around him. Unfortunately, it didn't hide everything. "I love free stuff."

Jan stormed forward. "This day couldn't get any worse," I heard her say as she whizzed by me. "Excuse me, Mr-"

"Creed Bratton," the old man said, holding out his hand so Jan could shake it. She grimaced and declined. "Just call me Creed. There's no Mr. on the front of that."

Jan eyed him suspiciously. "Ok, I don't know what you think you're trying to prove but you can not walk around here without any clothes on."

"Really?" Creed asked interested. "Well, back in the sixties, we used to have festivals all the time in the nude and no one thought anything of it."

"Well, it's not the sixties anymore," Jan said firmly. "And it's inappropriate to be nude at this festival."

"Oh, huh?" Creed said looking confused again. "Can you tell me what year it is?"

Jan was stunned. "Look, if you leave now, I will not press charges for indecent exposure."

Creed shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not pressing charges for you guys holding this festival on my front lawn."

"What?" Jan asked in disbelief.

"Oh, he's homeless," Angela moaned.

"No, I have a home," Creed said. "It's over there." He pointed to the clumping of trees near the north end of the pavilion.

Bob Vance showed some concern. "You know what man, lets get you to a shelter. I can take you," he offered.

"Oh lovely," Creed said cheerfully. "There's a delightful one over on Maple. They make a great stroganoff." Bob Vance nodded and began to escort him out, Phyllis trialing behind.

"So, that was nuts," I commented as they left.

"Alright," Jan yelled. "I've had enough of this, everyone on my staff, meeting, now!"

"No—" I began to protest. Jim was waiting for me and I knew he wasn't going to wait much longer.

Jan raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" she said.

"I just--I've got to—"

"Staff meeting!" She snapped, her tone implying that if I weren't there, she would fire me.

I let out a frustrated breath. Jim, thankfully, was still there but he was now all the way at the back of the pavilion talking with Darryl. There was no way I could get his attention and I hoped that whatever they were conversing about would last until this stupid meeting was over.

It didn't take long to gather everyone since we were all relatively in the same place. Thankfully, Jan only motioned for us to come a yard or so away from the pavilion and crowd. We gathered in a small circle. Jan looked angrier than I had been at Roy only a short while ago. She searched her pockets and quickly found what she was looking for; her cigarette pack and lighter. She pulled one out, lit the cigarette and took one grateful drag off it before she proceeded to chew us all out.

"A streaker!" she screamed before taking another drag. "How did we not catch that there was a homeless man living in our park and apparently likes to live in the nude?" She looked directly at me but I had no answer. "Do you people realize just how badly this day has been? Ed Truck has died. Pam cannot seem to get her personal life straightened out. Michael is making freaking suicide attempts and the museum is going to get sued. Of course, the press is in on all of this. And to top it all off, we have a streaker." She looked as though she was about to hit someone and we all took a step back.

"Well, I for one, didn't have anything to do with any of this," Angela commented. I rolled my eyes at her.

"Oh, yeah," Kelly sneered. "You're completely innocent in all of this. Maybe if you did your job and didn't spend all your time trying to make money off those tacky things you call figurines we wouldn't have had all these problems."

"They are not tacky," Angela said defensively. "And at least I'm not whoring myself out during work hours or being pathetic by trying to kill myself."

"Hey," Michael said a little hurt.

"Oh, have a heart, Angela," Kelly snapped. "He was trying to do something romantic."

"Thank you," Michael responded sincerely.

"Get a brain, Kelly," Angela retorted. "We're all going to lose our jobs after that women sues the museum."

"Hey, you guys, I don't think this is the time." I interjected trying to convey the seriousness of the situation.

"Yeah, I think we need to not turn on each other," said Oscar, who had been silent this whole time.

"Well, at least we got a lot of revenue from the dance," Ryan observed. "There are a ton of people here tonight."

Oscar looked grim. "Actually, most of the money from tonight will have to be used to pay the bands. "Unfortunately, Darryl is asking for quite a lot of money…"

"You've got to be kidding me," Ryan groaned. "Pam, you really screwed this up."

"What?" I said, shocked that he would blame me for anything. "What were we supposed to do, not have a band for tonight?"

"Oh right," Ryan said snidely. "Actually, I should blame Kelly because she's the one that picked out such a crappy band in the first place."

"Where do you get off blaming me for anything," Kelly argued. "You're the one who said it would be a great idea to invite them."

"I said no such thing," Ryan shot back.

"Oh, you so did," Kelly responded. "And just for the record, I lied earlier. That streaker's penis? So much bigger than yours."

"You're just saying that because you're mad at me…"

"I am mad at you…"

"You know what Kelly," Ryan said finally fed up. "I'm sick of arguing about everything. You and I are done."

"You can't break up with me," insisted Kelly.

"Oh really?" Ryan said throwing his hands up in the air. "Kelly, I am no longer dating you. There, I just did."

"ENOUGH!" Jan yelled. We had all heard Kelly and Ryan have this same argument a million times and although we were all tired of hearing it, their bickering had pushed Jan over the edge. "We're done tonight," she said in a very forced calm voice. "I'm pulling the plug before anything else can happen. The dance is over."

"Um, Jan," Michael started. "Is this an okay time to ask if we're still planning on having sex tonight?" Jan dropped her cigarette on the ground and stomped it out, giving Michael the evil eye as she did so. Michael got the message and did not say another word.

"Pam," she said turning to me. "Go announce the closing of the festival."

"But—" I started, thinking that anyone else was capable of doing so.

"Do it!"

I sighed.

* * *

The circle of staff members broke. While I was to go make the closing announcements, everyone else was supposed to make sure everyone left the park as soon as the announcement was made. As I headed back to the pavilion, I saw Jim still talking with Darryl though it looked like they were wrapping up because I saw Darryl shake Jim's hand. I didn't have a whole lot of time. I started to head in their direction but Jan caught my attention and pointed a demanding finger at the platform where Scrantonicity was wailing away.

I took a deep breath in and hurried over to the platform, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. I pushed through the crowd, a sea of sweaty and hot bodies, which made it difficult to reach the platform. Once arriving, I climbed up the steps and motioned the band to stop playing. After a few failed attempts, I waved my arms widely, signaling them to finish up. Kevin cut the band off abruptly and stared stupidly at me.

"We're done," I gave as an explanation. "The festival's over." The band members didn't seem to understand but made no complaints. I walked over to the mike and grabbed it. "Hello, everyone," I said into the mike. It squeaked loudly and I had everyone's attention even though my voice barely registered. "Hi." All eyes were on me and it made me nervous to stand up in front of everyone. The crowd was silent, waiting for me to speak again. "The festival is closing now," I said finally. "I want to thank everyone for coming and hope you will join us tomorrow for our other festivities and fireworks show." There were groans as they realized the dance had been cut short. "Please drive safely tonight and thank you again for coming. I hope you all had an enjoyable time."

The crowd started to slowly disperse, in much lower spirits. Scrantonicity looked as though they were about to start playing again. I motioned for them not to because Jan had wanted everyone out of the park as soon as possible to avoid any other ridiculous incident. As soon as they understood what I wanted, I jumped off the platform to head towards Jim.

I couldn't see over the crowd so I jumped up to see if Jim was still at the back of the pavilion. I thought I saw the back of his head but wasn't sure. "Jim!" I called. My voice was drowned out by all the commotion and even the people that surrounded me could barely hear me. "Jim!" I tried louder to no avail.

It was nearly impossible to get through the crowd as it had become so dense with activity. A couple of teenagers whizzed by me, pushing into my back and nearly causing me to topple over. Then, without ever seeing it coming, a large bald guy knocked into my side and because I was off balance already, I fell and landed with a thud on my hip and right hand. The cement stung and I pulled my hand to my chest, rubbing it to make the pain go away.

As I sat on the ground, looking up at the people trying to work around me, I thought maybe it was a sign that I was trying too hard. Maybe I wasn't supposed to ever reach Jim. Maybe our chance meeting was supposed to be just one moment in time and we were both to move on with our lives. But three days together was more than one mere moment. Three days held a bunch of moments and I wanted more of them.

No, I thought, as I pushed myself up, finding a renewed energy flowing through me. It wasn't a sign at all. Yes, this day had sucked but it was mostly my fault. I had said and done some stupid things throughout the course of this whole day and I only had myself to blame for my actions. And maybe I wasn't ready last night to give Jim what he had wanted but I was ready now. I was definitely ready now.

There was no way I was going to make it through the crowd to get to Jim so I had another idea. I pushed my way back up to the platform and ran up the stairs. I looked out into the crowd but I couldn't see Jim. I couldn't tell if he was still there but I had to try anyway at least for myself.

I grabbed the mike and at that moment, all the nervousness vanished. It didn't bother me that although this was a private message for Jim that everyone would be able to hear it. I felt like I could do anything. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I could walk over coals if I had to, I could swim across the sea, I could even endure hours of Jan's wrath. I was ready.

"Jim," I started into the mike. My voice cracked and I cleared my throat. "Jim Halpert!" I said much more confidently. I still couldn't see him but I didn't care, I had to say what was on my mind. "Jim, you're a good kisser." I smiled into the microphone. I didn't care that the group closest to the platform looked at me oddly. The experience was such a rush. "In fact, you're a great kisser and I didn't get the chance to tell you that last night but I've wanted to tell you all day. I know I pushed you away. I was scared. Scared of how you felt, of how I felt but I'm not scared now. Jim, I really care about you. And I know I haven't done my best to convey my feelings. In fact, I've done and said some very dumb things lately but I'm trying to make up for it now. And I'm sorry about Roy. I'm sorry about that whole mess and that you ended up in the middle of it and that he hit you because that was all my fault. I could have prevented that whole thing and I let it build up. But you have to know that that's finished now. It's done--it's over--it--you know what, none of that really matters now. The truth is Jim--I have been standing still for a long time. Maybe my whole life. But I never cared about moving forward until I met you. You mean so much to me and you have no idea how much you've changed my life in just a few days. I can't imagine never meeting you. So, I am going to go over to the fountain now. Meet me over there, Jim, if you're even still out there somewhere. Please?"

I backed away from the mike, thrilled at what I had just accomplished. It felt like a giant weight had been lifted. I didn't care that nearly everyone at the festival was staring or later I would get yelled at for taking off. When I jumped off the platform and exited the pavilion from the back I didn't care that I wouldn't hear the end of it from my coworkers for weeks. For once in my life, I was completely honest. For once in my life, I was straightforward. And if anything, even if Jim didn't meet me at the fountain, I should be proud that I was able to do that.

I made it to the fountain in record time, turned towards the pavilion and waited.


	16. Wash Away

A/N: Hey everyone, thanks so much for reading, I appreciate so much that you guys are enjoying the story. Here's the last chapter of day 3, day 4 will be back in Jim's POV. Happy Holidays!

If someone had asked me ten years ago where I'd be today, I would have told them I'd have a nice simple life, married to Roy, maybe a couple of kids. I always figured I would have been content with just that. I never expected that that perfect picture was less than ideal and that I would eventually pull away from my dream of mediocrity. I never thought my life would turn in a completely new and uncharted direction. I never thought I'd be pacing around this fountain waiting for a man that in only a few days had helped me see that there was so much more to life than I ever thought.

It had been only a few minutes since I had made my speech but if felt like hours while waiting for Jim. My anxiety rose as I made each circle around the fountain. But then the water streaming up and down so elegantly caught my attention and I stopped, mesmerized, watching the beauty.

It was a real possibility that Jim wouldn't show up, I told myself as I watched the water. But the important part was that I was able to move forward with my life, to push through even if I didn't know what the outcome would be. If someone asked me now where I'd be in ten years, I wouldn't know what to tell them. I didn't know what the future held but I was optimistic about it. Maybe Jim and I weren't ever supposed to be together but at least I took the chance and I won't ever regret that. And if nothing else, I was comforted by the fact that things were going to be just fine. Everything would be totally-

"Hey, Pam." My heart leapt into my throat as I turned my head to see Jim walking towards me. I don't know who I was kidding; I was absolutely thrilled to see him here and could hardly contain the giddy grin on my face to prove it. Jim came to my side, his hands in his pocket, his face placid. "I heard your speech," he said simply. "It was nice."

"Thank you." I grinned broader. "I, uh, meant everything I said," I continued, wanting to be as honest as possible. "I'm just sorry it took me three days to summon the courage to say it all."

Jim gave a half smile but his eyes remained on the fountain. His eye was still swollen and purple and I wasn't sure if I could ever apologize enough for that. He looked as though he had something to say and took a deep breath before he spoke again. "I wasn't going to come back today," he said contemplating his words carefully. "I mean, after last night, I just--but I thought then maybe if I came back today we could start over. Start fresh. And even though today hasn't exactly been stellar, I figured maybe if I pretended yesterday didn't happen it wouldn't be so bad."

I gave him a hard look. "Well, I don't want to forget yesterday happened."

He looked over at me with a mix of surprise and wonderment.

"Jim, I'm so sorry for today and about Roy. Especially about Roy," I said as I turned around to sit on the edge of the fountain. He did the same. "We had been together for ten years. A decade of my life was spent on that relationship and while I've been so much happier after my divorce, I pushed that whole relationship away and never really dealt with it. And I think Roy and I needed to just reach our ending, which is why I went after him tonight. I felt I owed him that. I am sorry that he hit you. You were being so sweet and I should have stepped in earlier."

He gave me a kind smile. "It's alright," he assured me. "I think I was just looking…waiting for something to happen that would make me think I was fooling myself for thinking you were…" He let the sentence die.

"You had nothing to worry about," I said, daringly reaching out to grab his hand and squeeze it. "And about last night…I have been on my own for six months and am still trying to figure out who I am. I mean, with the exception of a few times Roy and I actually got along, it wasn't that great, I never got to be myself, and I used to think that all relationships were just like that. But then I met you and--you made me realize what a relationship could be. I was scared of that last night but I don't think I am now. I'm still unsure about a lot of things. And while I know I can work them out on my own, I'd rather have you around to help me."

Jim squeezed my hand tightly. "I'm not going anywhere." I gave him a grateful smile, which he returned. "So, man, what a crazy day this has been," he commented.

"I know," I replied, still a little in awe of today's events. "I mean, it was bizarre, but I don't know, it's probably cliché to say it but—"

"You do know that just by saying something is cliché, it's a cliché," he teased.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I am what I am."

"No, I think that's Popeye." We both laughed. "I can't believe your friend set you up with such a strange guy."

"Yeah, Kelly's just--I don't know what she was thinking," I said rolling my eyes. "So, are you going to tell me why he calls you Big Tuna?"

"Um...no," he answered. "I think that one I'm taking to my grave."

I laughed. "I can't believe Michael tried to commit suicide…over Jan."

Jim's eyes widened. "Yeah, that was…" he thought about it a moment. "And your boss actually got a boob job for him?"

"Oh, you know what the sad thing is," I said thinking about it. "No one even noticed. You'd think if you were going to get a boob job, you'd make them noticeably bigger. Like out to here," I said demonstrating.

Jim laughed. "Actually, I'd go bigger than that," he said holding his hands out in front of his chest.

I sighed, thinking about work. "I think the museum is going to get sued," I confided. "And we lost our financial backer. Literally. He died today. I don't know how long we'll be able to stay afloat or even if we'll be able to finish out the festival."

"Oh, Pam, I'm so sorry," Jim said sincerely.

"Yeah, it's alright," I replied. "I wish it wasn't an issue though. Just adds more stress to my life, you know?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "Well, hey, you have my article coming out tomorrow, so at least you know you'll get some good publicity."

"Will it be?" I asked curiously. "I mean, Karen's writing the article and—"

"Oh, crap, Karen," he said looking as though he had completely forgotten about her.

"I mean," I continued, "she probably thinks I'm the biggest bitch..."

"No," Jim said assuringly. "She's probably more upset with me right now. But I know she's professional enough to do her job. It will be a good article despite how she feels about it."

"Oh, good."

"So, um, did you really feel her up?" he asked with a grin.

"What?" I said, my cheeks flushing at my poor attempt to flirt earlier.

"She just said she knew you were into me when you accidentally touched her leg," I could tell he was amused by this. "Or, maybe we both misread that gesture."

"I'm not gay," I said with a smirk. "Actually, I was trying to do this…" And although my heart rate speed up in that moment, I reached my foot out and playfully patted at the end of his pant leg before slipping it under and gently running my foot partially up his calf.

Jim looked at me deeply, the playfulness replaced by a new, more sensual energy. "Um, Pam." His voice was all seriousness. "Are you free for dinner tomorrow night?"

I gave a wicked smile before I leaned in, gently brushing my lips against his. I could feel him smile back as he returned the kiss, tender and sweet. As if it were the most natural thing to do, I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in for a deeper, lingering kiss, one to savor, one to revel in the pure enjoyment of his lips against mine. His arms were quickly around me, squeezing me tighter, letting his warmth encompass me. I ran my fingers through his hair, loving the soft touch. Desire took over as the kiss continued, hungrily quickening as if we couldn't get enough of each other. My tongue soon traced his lips, exploring, tasting and when it entwined with his, I moaned out of sheer pleasure. I pulled him tighter, wanting to be as close as possible, wanting to remain lost in this moment as long as I could hold on to it.

Finally, we broke apart, each panting slightly, still clinging to one another. Jim let out a small laugh. "So you, uh, never answered my question," he said with a grin.

"Yeah, yeah," I replied playfully, snuggling closer to him, unable to contain my own blissful smile. "It's a date."


	17. I Want To Hold Your Hand

A/N: My apologizes for the long delay. Here's the start of Day Four in Jim's POV. Enjoy!

"…so all year she decides to call me Jimmy. Come here, Jimmy. Do this, Jimmy. Sit down, Jimmy." Pam laughed as I did my best impression of the fourth grade teacher who used to torment me.

"Sounds like she was calling a dog," Pam said through her laughter. Her smile was wide and bright; I couldn't get enough of it. I loved making her smile like that. "Sit, Jimmy, sit," she said, attempting her own imitation, albeit a bad one. "Heel!"

I let out a loud laugh; she was cracking me up as much as I was her. "Man, to this day I still hate being called Jimmy," I admitted.

She rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward. She was trying hard to keep a straight face but I could see the sides of her mouth twitching to regain that smile. "Jimmy," she said in a low, teasing, almost seductive voice. I eyed her back, attempting to beat her at her game but I couldn't contain the grin and before long, we were both laughing again.

Our waitress, an older robust woman, came by with a curious look on her face and another pot of coffee. "Ya know, if you're worried about that eye," she started referring to the eye Roy had punched, "I got some make-up that'll cover it right up. Had to use it last week to cover a shiner this bitch gave me for taking her parking spot. Don' worry, knocked her out cold."

Pam and I exchanged amused looks.

Another cup?" she asked in an oddly sweet tone. We both nodded. I had no idea how many cups Pam and I had since we arrived at the twenty-four hour diner but I did know this was the second waitress to serve us since our first waitress's shift had ended a few hours ago. After she had poured our coffee, she paused, staring at us hard.

"What?" Pam asked for the both of us.

"You guys just start datin' or somethin'?" she asked in all seriousness. "'Cause no one stays at this joint for eight hours straight 'less they crazy or too damn in love to notice the shitty food."

Pam and I both blushed and looked away from each other. "Uh, we're here for the coffee," I said not knowing how to respond.

"The coffee ain't that good either," the waitress responded.

"Actually, we just met," Pam said trying to sound cool but her eyes betrayed her as she looked fondly over at me. I looked adoringly back at her. I doubted we were fooling anybody.

"Yeah," I continued the game. "We're just having coffee here because…"

"'Cause you're datin'," the waitress said, not buying the act as she slammed the coffee pot down on the table. "Look, ya guys like each other. New love. I get that. But my regulars are gonna be here in a half hour and if I don't get this booth free, my biggest tipper ain't gonna have a place to sit, so ya guys better find some other place to oogle at each other." She took her pad out of her apron and ripped off the check, pounding it down on the table. She forced a false smile. "Have a great morning."

Pam and I looked at each other, a little unsure as to how to respond to that. It was almost six in the morning and we had spent all night talking. Not long after the festival was over, we headed to the closest diner, which happened to be open all night. Neither of us had anticipated staying up so late but we kept talking, swapping life stories, getting to know each other, enjoying each other's company. The night had quickly slipped away from us and while the sun was slowly coming over the treetops signifying a new day, I didn't want the night to end.

"You're blushing," I teased Pam, noticing how red her face had gotten since the waitress had made her little speech.

"You're very blushing," she teased back. It was true, I was. So far, we had kept to our own little bubble, but having someone penetrate that had caught us both off guard. "I can't believe…wow," she checked her watch. "I have to be at work in two hours." She looked at me apologetically. She didn't want to leave any more than I did. "Jim, I'm sorry, I really can't go to work in the same thing I had on yesterday. I've got to stop at my apartment before going back."

"Why don't I give you a lift?" I offered, thinking it would be a way for us to be together for a little while longer.

"Oh, I can just take the bus," she said. I gave her a pleading look and she smiled gently. "You don't mind?"

"Nope," I said definitely. "Besides, I am much more reliable then the bus."

"Alright," she said, a twinkle in her eye. I took a final sip of coffee as I waited for her to collect her purse and in no time we had paid for our coffee and left the restaurant. On the way out to the car, I reached out for her hand and felt a tiny rush as her soft fingers entwined in mine.

"How is your eye?" Pam asked concerned as I pulled out of the parking lot.

In all honesty, I had forgotten until the waitress had mentioned it and checked it out in the mirror. The swelling had gone down some but the bruise around it was still very dark. "Looks worse than it feels. Not really looking forward to going to work with it," I admitted. I hadn't thought about work at all that night but the reality was I had to go and I knew I would be questioned about last night's events.

"Jim," she started, looking a little worried. "I'm am still so sorry…"

"Don't worry about it," I assured her.

A few minutes later, we arrived at her apartment. "So…" I started, unsure of the proper etiquette, "do you want me to wait out in the car or…"

"Oh, you're driving me to work, too?" she asked, a little surprised.

"Uh, yeah," I stuttered, "I mean, the park is on my way to work and…"

"You can come up," she interrupted. I stared at her a little in shock. I hadn't expected that response and she blushed at her own forwardness. "I mean, there's no need for you to sit in the car."

I followed her as we made our way across the parking lot. When I jumped up onto the porch after her, she turned around quickly, swinging her arm around my neck, pressed her warm body against mine and pulled me down for a hard kiss. While I would never tire of her lips on mine, I was taken aback by the suddenness of the kiss until she pulled away, giving me a nod and looking deep into my eyes. "I shouldn't have run away," she said simply.

A car door slammed and she once again became aware of our surroundings. She tore away from me, flustered a little, her cheeks reddening, her hands shaky as she retrieved her keys from her purse. I grinned, thinking that once inside, maybe I could fluster her a little more.

Her apartment was on the second floor a little way down the hall. Door number 18. I committed it to memory as I assumed I would make the trip plenty of times in the future. I was slightly surprised at how messy her apartment was, and she smiled at me sheepishly as if to apologize, but I had no room to speak because my place was no better. She told me to make myself at home as she went down the hall that I presumed led to the bedroom.

I started gazing at the living room, taking in the contents to learn more about her. At the diner I had learned plenty of little things; she liked a sprinkle of cinnamon in her latte and doesn't like eating ice cream without nuts, but to be in her home, there was so much more to learn. There were a few pictures on an end table; Pam with an older couple, which I assumed were her parents. She had her dad's nose, her mother's eyes. I examined the bookshelf next to the end table, amused to find that there were a few books on there in my own collection.

In the corner of the room stood an easel and a blank canvas. On the floor surrounding the easel lay half used art supplies. Thinking back to that drawing she had shown me yesterday, I wondered if she did all her work here or if she holed up in a studio somewhere. I tried imagining her standing at the canvas, working on her art.

After a moment or so, I wandered into the kitchen to look around. Dishes were piled in the sink. A used frying pan rested on a stove that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in ages. She had a small card table, which she used as a kitchen table, the top of which was cluttered with envelopes, bills, papers, and an open cereal box. A small green plant resting by the window looked in need of water.

There was a mirror hanging near the entryway so I stopped to check out how I was looking after being up all night. I wasn't sure what Pam saw in me, I looked horrible. My eye was getting a little better but the dark circles forming from the lack of sleep wasn't helping. I tried patting down my hair, which was sticking out everywhere but it was no use. And it was evident that I needed to shave. I contemplated stopping at my own place before I headed to work but since I lived a good deal away, I didn't think I'd have the time.

I headed back to the living room, thinking I could watch a little TV while waiting, but a book lying on her desk caught my attention. I was about to reach for it when Pam's voice sounded. "Jim?" she asked. I turned my attention towards her. She was dressed now, wearing a tan top and dark skirt, with her hair pulled back the way it had been for the three days I had known her. She approached curiously. "What are you doing?" she asked raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"Oh, I was just checking out the desk," I responded, acting as if I had been caught doing something I shouldn't. "I didn't mean to…"

"No, you're fine," she said but reached for the book and the magazine underneath it and pulled it towards her.

Now it was my turn to be suspicious. "Do you not want me to see that?" I pawed for the book and magazine but she pulled them farther away.

She shrugged trying to play cool though whatever it was, she wasn't interested in sharing. "It's not relevant," she claimed.

"Come on, Pam, what are you hiding?" I asked trying to grab them again but she was able to pull them away from me, holding them behind her back.

"Really, not relevant," she giggled.

"What is it?" I asked, not giving up, coming close enough to her that I could smell the fruity body wash she had just used. "I'm gonna guess erotica and a dirty magazine," I joked. "Why else would you be holding out? It's alright to have porn, Pam, everyone does."

She rolled her eyes but laughed. "It's not porn," she insisted. "It's…" she bit her lip nervously. "Ok, if I show you, you have to promise not to laugh." She held out the book and the magazine.

The magazine was a Cosmo and since I figured plenty of women read that, I wasn't sure what the big deal with that was but the book was another thing. It was a self-help book written by some doctor of psychology on how to reinvent yourself after your divorce. I looked at the magazine again and noticed the big headline about thirty things a woman should do before she's thirty.

"I guess I don't understand," I said sincerely. "Why would you be embarrassed by this?"

"I don't know," she said crossing her arms across her chest and staring at the floor. "After I got divorced I thought maybe I should go out and try new things, let my hair down, live a little. My cousin gave me those but I'm not sure how much I've gained from them. They book is so technical and the magazine, well, it's Cosmo and I'm not sure how much insight I can really get from one of those magazines."

I placed the book and magazine back on the desk. "Well, whatever helps you be you, I'll go with," I said with a smile. "Because I like you."

She grinned. "I like you, too."

"Well, that's good or me being here would be pretty awkward," I joked. "Though, I do think you've been hypocritical on one point."

She tilted her head not understanding. "What's that?"

"You just said you wanted to let your hair down," I teased pointing at the barrette in her hair. "And so far, I've only seen you with your hair up, so if you don't want to be a hypocrite, I think you should leave it down."

She playfully hit me in the arm but then turned away as if she had come up with an idea. She glanced back at me with wide eyes and a mischievous smile. "I'll be right back, I have to go get something," she said, giving me no indication as to what she was up to.

"Alright," I said. "Gives me more time to find your massive porn collection." I pretended to search for it by rummaging through the papers on her desk.

She gave me a sly look. "It's not in the desk," she smirked before heading back towards the bedroom.

It didn't take her long and when she came back out, her hair was down, the curls shaping her face lovingly and flowing over her shoulders. My eyes grew wide, taking her in. I had only been joking about letting her hair down and I had thought she was beautiful before but the woman standing before me was absolutely gorgeous. An image of her lying on my bed, her hair down and wild against a pillow popped into my head and if I hadn't been already gone, I would have fallen for her more.

"Wow…" I managed to say finally. "You look…" but I could find no words to describe how I felt.

At first she seemed unsure but when she heard my reaction she grinned. "See," she said excitedly. "Now I'm at least thirty percent more unpredictable." I wanted nothing more than to kiss her just then but Pam being the more responsible one checked her watch and determined if we left now she would be able to get to work on time.

We headed out to the car, this time Pam grabbing my hand, giving me an amazing rush that I doubt I would ever get use to. I drove slowly knowing that in a short time I would be forced to reenter the reality of my job and my life outside of Pam. I even took the longer route to the park and if she noticed, she didn't say anything.

What I didn't know was that the road to the park was currently blocked by a police barrier. "Do you know what's going on?" I asked as I pulled in to a parking lot of a bank to turn around.

She thought about it a moment. "Yeah, I think that marathon is coming through today."

"Oh crap," I said, suddenly remembering my assignment for that day. Dwight and I were supposed to cover Scranton's annual charity marathon. We had been assigned the story over a week ago. I hoped that Dwight was already there since we were to be there a half hour ago.

Pam looked at me concerned. "What's wrong?"

"I just need to be there," I said before explaining the situation.

"Well," Pam replied. "The marathon doesn't actually start for another forty-five minutes, so I think you'll be ok." Her optimism was comforting.

A few minutes later, I pulled into the park parking lot. "Alright," I said, a bit of hesitance in my voice. I didn't want to let her go. She didn't seem too eager to leave the car either.

"Hey, Jim…"

"Yeah?"

She bit her lip again. "I had a really great night with you."

"Me too," I assured her, smiling broadly.

"We're still on for tonight, right?" she asked.

"Definitely," I replied. I ran one hand through her soft curls then cupped her face, pulling her forward for a gentle kiss. We pulled apart slowly. "I'll give you a call when I'm done," I said.

"Have fun," she said with a sweet smile as she opened the car door.

"You too," I whispered as she left. Although I already missed her being with me, I was ecstatically happy. Happier than I ever felt and I doubted I could downplay it if I tried. I didn't care that I was late getting to my own job because all I could think about was Pam and how wonderful she made me feel.

I was still grinning when I returned to the starting point of the marathon. Dwight was already there and wasted no time bombarding me the moment I got out of the car.

"You're late," he observed.

"Yup," I replied not intending to give him a reason.

"Tell me why you are late and your punishment will be less," he said sternly.

"Yeah, you don't have the authority to do that," I replied. I felt like we had this conversation nearly every day, but today, with the knowledge that I was going to see Pam this evening, everything, including Dwight, seemed more tolerable.

Dwight stared me up and down. "Why are you wearing the clothes you had on yesterday?"

I looked down at my suit, then stared at him blankly. "Whoops, I guess I forgot to change my clothes."

Dwight sneered at me. "No you didn't, Jim. You are such a loser."

"Well, I like being a loser." I deadpanned.

"No one likes being a loser, Jim," Dwight shot back.

"I do."

"You do not." Dwight scoffed at me again. "And when we get back to the office, I want my ruler back."

"Why?" I asked. "Did some one take it?"

"You took it," he accused.

"I took it?"

"Yes," he was frustrated now, which amused me. "I know it was you. It's always you. What do you think I am, an idiot?"

"Yes."

"Idiot."

I grinned. But just as I thought working on this article wouldn't be so bad, Karen came into view. I was tempted to duck out of the way, hoping she wouldn't see me, but she eyed me fiercely and I knew there was no escaping.

"Good, you're here, which means I don't have to be," Karen said harshly as she came up to Dwight and I.

"Karen, hey," I said a little hesitantly. I didn't know if there was any way this conversation wouldn't be awkward. "I didn't realize you were on this story."

"I wasn't," her voice was very curt. "Dwight called me when you didn't show up. And I don't know why I was surprised, your work ethic lately has been so poor. Oh, and thank you, by the way, for helping me finish the article last night. That was really wonderful professionalism there."

I stared at my shoes. I hated being yelled at, especially when it came from Karen. "So, did the article turn out alright?" I asked sheepishly.

She pursed her lips, looking as if she were going to blow at any second. "You didn't read the article?" she asked in a quiet, forced tone. I suddenly felt very guilty. "God, Jim, of course, you couldn't even be bothered to read the article that you begged to do and that I saved your butt by finishing. Well, you know what, I've worked too damn hard at my career to let you screw it up so don't ever ask me for anything again."

I nodded my head silently but Karen hadn't finished.

"Dammit, Jim, where were you last night…" her voice trailed off as she looked me over. Her eyes grew wide as she answered her own question. "You're wearing the same clothes…you..." I turned away not wanting to look at Karen's accusing eyes. "Oh my god," she said sounding as if she were going to be sick. "You were with her..."

"Karen," I tried but she cut me off.

"Is that how you got the black eye?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Does she like it rough?"

"Karen, I-"

"Just go to hell, Jim," she said turning away from me and heading off. Before she got too far, she turned around with a devilish, cruel grin on her face. "Oh and before I forget. Josh is looking for you. He says it's important that you talk to him about recent job performance." She scrunched her nose. "Consider the message delivered." She spun on her heal and briskly left.

Dwight, who had been quiet this whole time, came uncomfortably close to examine my eye. "Wow, that does look bad," he said giving it a poke. I backed up a step. "What fighting technique did you use? You know, I make my own bruise medication made out of aloe I grow on the farm…"

Before I had to listen to Dwight's home remedies, my cell went off. Grateful, I told him I had to take it and when I saw that it was a text message from Pam, I was relieved that I could momentarily return to the happy bubble she and I had created that morning.

Hey,

Just got a moment away. Crazy morning already. Angela's cat died, she's driving everyone nuts. Kelly's still upset with Ryan after he dumped her. She's claiming she's pregnant but I know she's making it up. Oh, and the worst thing happened. Jan and Michael are back together. They obviously spent the night at the park. I know because Michael was walking around NAKED! I unfortunately saw his…dangling participle? Ew, ew, ew. I need to bleach my brain.

Can't wait to see you! :) -p


	18. Spinnin' and Reelin'

Having been up all night and not had the chance to go back home, I was totally unprepared to do any interviews. Usually I scoff at Dwight's meticulousness when concerning his job but today I was grateful for it. And thankful that he didn't ask too many questions as to why I wasn't ready. Of course, he has always thought I was a slacker and didn't hesitate to remind me of how lazy I was. I grinned and bared it with a witty remark much like I always did and the assignment was accomplished with relative ease.

There wasn't much to report. Even though it was an annual tradition in Scranton, the marathon held little weight in the news world. Dwight and I interviewed a few of the coordinators, a few of the runners, and a couple of audience members. Then after an argument over who would be first in the byline we were on our way.

I thought once back at the office I'd have an easy day. There were no games to cover and all my responsibilities for the day were writing up a few stats, making a few phone calls and writing that marathon article with Dwight. I figured I could get everything done that morning and have the entire afternoon to debate on where I could take Pam out for our date. Unfortunately, things didn't work out so easily.

"Alright, Dwight, let's get this over with," I said as I came into our small, shared office.

Dwight, who had gotten back to the office before I did and already sat comfortably in his chair, tore his gaze away from his computer to stare at me blankly. "No," he responded.

"What?" I asked, irritated already. I had hoped that Dwight would want to finish this up as quickly as I did so he could get back to whatever it was he liked to do in his spare time.

"Have you checked your memos?" he asked grinning.

"I haven't been here since yesterday morning," I responded falling into my own chair and proceeding to turn on my computer.

"Well, then," Dwight said, sounding smug. "Check your memos and you will understand what I am talking about."

I usually never understood what he was talking about. "Why can't you just tell me?" The computer was being extra slow and I drummed my fingers on my desk waiting for it.

"Why don't you tell me where you were last night?" Dwight said.

"No."

Dwight continued. "Fact, you are wearing the same clothes as yesterday and you never wear the same clothes because your clothing cycle repeats every four-point-five days." I looked back at him oddly. "Fact, you were at the festival last night and after Karen came back she declined to inform me as to your whereabouts…"

"Wait, you talked with Karen—"

Dwight kept going. "Fact, you have a black eye. So, I conclude that you either fell down, smacked your eye on a blunt object and passed out all night or you were hunting something big down and got caught."

I smiled, amused. "What would I be hunting down, Dwight?"

He eyed me suspiciously. "Some kind of big story, something to do with the art festival." I could see that he had already decided this was the only possible explanation for where I was last night. "What was it, Jim? Was it important? Did it have to do with…art thieves?"

I leaned in close and looked around. "Do you really want to know?" I asked, playing him as I always did. He nodded. "Tell me what the memo was about first."

Dwight hesitated for a moment. "Ok, fine. We are all required to be at a technology meeting that starts in five minutes." He rolled his eyes. "Like I need to know anything about technology. I have all the knowledge I will ever need on the subject."

"Is the meeting in the main conference room?" I asked, ignoring his rambling about how he could outsmart robots.

"Yes."

"Thank you," I said, getting up and heading to the meeting. So much for the free afternoon, I thought.

"Hey, wait," I heard Dwight call as I left. "You promised to tell…"

Luckily Dwight didn't follow me to the conference room. I was, however, met with plenty of stares from my coworkers upon my arrival. I couldn't figure it out at first but then I realized they were staring at my eye. Feeling somewhat self-conscious, I took a seat in the back row away from everyone. Karen came in a moment later and gave me a hard glare. If the meeting hadn't started right then I was sure she would have had something to say to me.

The meeting, in my opinion anyway, was utterly pointless. The newspaper had hired a fresh out of college kid to finally bring us to the twenty-first century by creating a website to post our articles on. He began elaborating on how we were bringing our paper into the modern age and how versatile it would be to our customers. He seemed overly excited about the whole thing and while the room seemed to be split on how great this website would actually be, I didn't really care since it didn't affect my job.

Instead, my mind began to wander. I wondered what Pam was up to, if she was having a good time at the festival, if her coworkers were being as insane as they were yesterday. Except for Dwight, my coworkers were mostly normal. I would have to mention to her the kid who was giving the talk, though. He reminded me of her coworker Ryan; same smarmy and cocky attitude. He looked like Ryan as well, only he had blond hair and a beard. A very bad beard. That made me chuckle and I wished Pam was here so I could joke with her about it. My mind wandered further to Pam and I began to plan our date.

"Jim!" The sound of my boss's voice startled me out of the daydream. "Do you think you can handle that?"

"Uh," I stuttered. "Sure…" I responded having no idea what he was talking about. He eyed me a little but continued talking.

Two and a half hours later, the meeting finally ended. My butt being incredibly numb, I jumped out of my seat before everyone else. I noticed Josh, my boss, looking at me, probably wanting to have a chat but thankfully Karen caught his attention. I didn't know what they were conversing about but I didn't stay to find out.

Dwight wanted to get to work on the article but since it was lunchtime, I was eager to get out of there and since I didn't pack a lunch, I had to find some place to eat. I mentioned to Dwight I was going out and he in turn reminded me that I only had a half hour and if I weren't back by then, he would get all the credit. Not really caring, I took off.

I originally only intended to grab some fast food and eat at the office but my route took me past the park and I found myself pulling in to the parking lot. The festival had plenty of food and I thought that was a good enough excuse to see Pam again.

I found Pam easily enough, inspecting a bowl from a table filled with pottery. Trying to remain quiet, I snuck up behind her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. She was startled at first but then grinned broadly when she saw me standing there.

"Hey," she said sweetly. "What are you doing here?"

"Do I need a reason?" I asked, stealing another kiss. I grinned when I saw her blush.

"Jim," she said pushing me away a little. She nodded towards Phyllis, who was standing at the next table looking over at us, and then gave me a slightly unsure look. "Um, do you mind if we keep the PDA down a little? My coworkers are just horrible when it comes to gossip and I think I want to keep you a secret a little while longer."

"Oh, right," I said jokingly. "Because once it's public, the magic's gone, right?"

She laughed. "Magic? Come on. Who needs it?"

"Oh, I do," I said grinning at her. "Or else, what's left?"

"Well, at least we had that one night," she said overly acting her part as she played along.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Eh, all we did is talk. Getting to know each other? Overrated."

"I had fun at least," she responded smiling.

I pretended to think about it for a second. "Okay," I said with a half-hearted smile.

She playfully swatted my arm. "So, what are you really doing here? Are you done for the day?"

"No, lunch break," I informed her. "Are you free or…"

"Yeah, definitely," she answered. "I can't leave the park though."

"That's fine," I said turning my attention towards the ceramic pottery on the table. "So, this stuff is cool."

"It really is," Pam said, picking up a brown mug. "And it's all local too. Some of it's just for show but a majority of it is for sale. This morning I bought a really neat lamp for only eight dollars."

"Awesome."

"Yeah, I'll have to show you when…"

"Hey guys." It was Phyllis who interrupted. We both spun around to see her grinning at the both of us. "I couldn't help but see you guys from the distance and I just have to say I'm so glad to see that you're together now."

"Oh, thanks," Pam said sweetly, though I could tell she wasn't all that thrilled to be talking about it with Phyllis.

"Uh, thanks Phyllis," I said though it was an awkward compliment coming from some one I didn't know that well.

She grinned wider, in almost a creepy way. "And Pam, it's great that you're sleeping with a reporter now. That way the museum has easy access to good publicity."

My jaw dropped and I looked at Pam who seemed to be just as flabbergasted. Neither of us responded and Phyllis, who didn't seem to think she said anything inappropriate, nodded at us both before heading to another table.

"Wow," I said when she left.

Pam shook her head. "See, that is why I didn't want any of my coworkers to know."

"Yeah, that was just…wow."

"Yeah, I told you my coworkers are awful," Pam continued crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head. "Oh, which reminds me, I have to tell you about Michael and Jan…"

"Hey, Pam." This time it was Ryan who did the interrupting. We both looked at him, waiting for him to spit out whatever it was that he wanted, but when he noticed I was standing there he gave me an odd look. "Oh, you're back," he said to me as if it were a big surprise.

"Yup," I said thinking it was not really a big deal.

"What is it, day four now?" Ryan said with a smirk. "The newspaper doing a special edition on the festival?"

"Nope, I'm just looking around today," I ignored his snarky attitude.

"What do you want Ryan?" Pam asked, a little snap in her voice. I pretended to be engrossed in the pottery as they talked.

"Oh, I just wanted to let you know that we had a problem with the guys doing the fireworks," Ryan explained. "Something about a mix up with directions and they wouldn't be here until late."

"Oh my god," Pam said worried. I could see out of the corner of my eye that she was rubbing her forehead. "Great, now what do we do."

"We don't have to do anything," Ryan said with a devilish little grin. It made me suspicious. "I was on the phone with a friend of mine who does fireworks. He said he would bring some out this evening in case the guys we hired aren't able to make it. Just wanted to let you know everything was settled."

"Uh, thanks Ryan," Pam said with a bit of surprise. I doubted Ryan came through for anyone that often. "Thanks a lot. Saves me a whole lot of trouble."

"No problem," he said. Then, unexpectedly, he placed a hand on Pam's arm and began to rub up and down.

My first instinct was to turn around and ask him what the hell he thought he was doing but Pam pulled quickly away. "Uh, Ryan…" she began.

Ryan didn't seem to notice her discomfort. "You know Pam, you and I have been friends for a long time. I think maybe it's time that you and I take our friendship to the next level."

"What?" Pam sounded shocked. With that, I became completely invested in the conversation and it became harder to pretend I was looking at pottery. Part of me was pissed off that he was even attempting to hit on Pam, the other part was amused that she was about to shut him down.

"After the fireworks tonight, maybe you and I should go out. Get a couple of drinks…" Man, he sounded so sure of himself.

"Uh, Ryan, no…"

Now Ryan looked confused. "I just want to take you out on a date."

Pam shook her head. "Um, remember Kelly? You're girlfriend?" she asked.

"Oh, come on, Pam. That's over." Ryan said disgusted. "We both know that relationship was never going anywhere." Yeah, he was a winner. I kind of felt bad for Kelly. "So, what do you say? Is it a date?"

"Uh, Ryan, I'm sorry, I can't…"

"Why not?" he persisted. I couldn't believe he kept trying.

"I, um, I-"

"It's just one evening…"

"I have a boyfriend," she finally said. I smiled at that. Somehow it felt so official now.

"What?" Ryan asked in disbelief.

Pam looked over at me fondly. "Jim and I are together."

"Hey," I took the opportunity to spin around and make myself present again. Ryan looked at me wide-eyed as the realization sunk in. I gave him a smug look and a little hand wave to reiterate the point.

Ryan looked as though he was going to be ill. "Oh, that's great," he forced out. "Really, that's…you know what? I have to be somewhere." He avoided all eye contact with me as he scurried away.

"Well, that was interesting," I commented.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that," Pam said. "It annoys me that he thinks he can just pick up any girl he wants. Especially because he just wants to rub it in Kelly's face." I detected a little bit of anger in her voice. "I'll have to tell her so she can give up on the little snake."

I let out a laugh. "Well, at least now, if things don't work out on our date tonight, you always have a back up."

She rolled her eyes. "Thank you, that's very reassuring."

* * *

"So, Dwight thinks I got in a fight with art thieves," I said as I took a bite of pepperoni pizza. Pam and I had found a couple of seats in the back of the food tent and were enjoying a few slices and a couple of sodas. We had been chatting easily for the last fifteen minutes or so.

"Really," Pam said raising an eyebrow. "Why would he think that?"

"He thinks it's how I got the black eye," I informed her.

"And you didn't feel the need to correct him?" she asked as she sipped on her soda.

"To be quiet honest, Pam," I admitted. "I think taking on art thieves is much more interesting than being knocked out by your girlfriend's ex-husband."

She gave a sympathetic smile, and then reached over, tenderly brushing a few strands of hair off my forehead before gently running her hand down my cheek. "It's looking better," she offered.

It didn't but I appreciated the sentiment. "Thanks," I replied softly.

"You know, I met a couple of art thieves," Pam informed me, tilting her head back to think about it. "The ones that stole that da Vinci painting from the Louvre a couple years ago. I know because I saw the paining."

"You didn't see it," I said, finding it hard to believe.

"I did see it," she insisted.

"Nope, I don't believe you."

"I did. I really did."

"Not possible."

"It is possible. I saw it. I saw it and it was amazing."

I shook my head and took another bite of pizza. "So, you're telling me you saw the missing da Vinci painting that was stolen from the Louvre right here in Scranton?"

"I really did," she said. She was so worked up about it that it was endearing. "I was helping unload some artwork from these people we were borrowing paintings from and it was in the back of their truck."

"Why didn't you call the police then if you were so sure?"

"I wanted to," she continued, "But Jan wouldn't let me because she said we needed to get art from these people. And the crazy thing is, after we borrowed the art and gave it back, we never heard from them again."

I shook my head again. "I'm sorry, I don't believe that art thieves would let art museums borrow the work they've stolen."

"Come on," she said exasperated, "you were just trying to convince me last night that you saw someone hit a baseball seven-hundred feet or something."

"That is a fact," I replied laughing, "I did a story on it. If you don't believe me, it's documented, I'll give you the issue number and you can look it up."

Pam looked away in disgust. "Fine, don't believe me. I know what I saw."

"Pam," I argued, "you're trying to convince me that French art thieves came to Pennsylvania and lent your museum art work. You don't think that is far fetched?"

"Not when I saw it with my own eyes," she shot back. "Yeah, one of these days they'll be back and I'll show you."

"I'm sure you will," I grinned and took a sip of soda.

"Oh, hey, today's paper," Pam said, stretching beyond me to grab the folded paper that lay abandoned on the edge of the table. She grinned. "Let's see how that article turned out."

"Uh…" I started, slinking a little lower in my chair. Having not read the paper, I was unsure of how it came out. "Do we need to?"

Pam looked at me confused. "Why? Is it bad?" she asked as she pulled out the Arts and Culture section.

"I have no idea," I said honestly as I began to glance over the portion of the paper she had put on the table. I was a little nervous to hear how the article had turned out.

"Here it is," she said. I watched as she scanned the paper, her face falling as she did so. She finished quickly, then folded the paper again and placed it beside her plate. Without another word, she took another bite of pizza.

"Well?" I asked hesitantly.

She tilted her head to think about it. "She didn't gush," Pam replied finally. "But I guess I didn't expect her too. It wasn't bad, there was nothing damaging in it, I just thought--it doesn't matter."

"Pam, I'm so sorry—" I began. "I should have handled Karen better than I did, I- I always meant for the museum to get glowing publicity."

"It was partly my fault too," Pam said, placing her hand in mine and giving it a squeeze. "I think we screwed that one up together. And at least Karen was professional about it. She could have written a lot of things but she didn't. Don't beat yourself up about it. Let's just move on."

I smiled. "Alright, then. Moving on." I glanced at the paper in front of me and noticed an article on the yogurt company that had distributed spoiled batches had changed ownership and their product was once again FDA approved. It reminded me of the day I met Pam, when she pulled out a container of yogurt from that company and how I explained that the breakfast she was about it eat wasn't any good. I didn't hesitate to bring up the memory. "Hey, looks like you're safe to eat your yogurt again," I said pointing to the article.

"What's that?" Pam asked, leaning over to read a little.

"Remember? I bought you breakfast because I made you throw away what you had brought?" I reminded her.

"I remember," she said reflectively. "You know what…"

"What?" I asked.

"It's nothing," she said shaking her head. "You'll just laugh."

"I promise I won't laugh."

She waited a moment, hesitant. "Ok, that morning, when you told me that my breakfast was bad…that was when I knew I liked you."

"Really?" I asked a little surprised.

"Yeah," she said, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"There's nothing funny about that," I assured her. "I mean, personally, I would have picked a less inane moment but, you know, I'm not going to argue with anything that gets you to like me."

She let out a tiny laugh. "Well, Roy never did stuff like that. I mean, food would have gotten moldy and he wouldn't have noticed so I always have had to look out for myself. It was nice to have someone else look out for me for a change."

I smiled, thinking that maybe it wasn't such an inane moment after all. "Well, it's what I do."

She laughed again. "What about you, when did you know?"

"The moment I first saw you," I answered without a beat.

"Yeah, sure," she said doubtfully.

It was mostly true. I hadn't given it that much thought because knowing her and caring for her seemed to have the same timeline. "Do you remember what you told me when I said that I hadn't been to the festival before?"

She thought about it for a second, her eyes becoming wide when she recalled the memory. "Yeah, I told you your life would be different from this point forward."

"And you were right," I said seriously. "From that moment, I knew my life would be different. That's when I knew." Pam had no reply. Instead, she pulled me close to give a gentle kiss.

"PAAAMMM," we split apart quickly when we heard Michael's voice. Sure enough, he was standing only a few feet away. "Pam, I've been—" he stopped short when he saw me sitting there. "Wait, you two are…oh my god." He let out an ecstatic laugh. "You guys are together now?"

Pam and I exchanged glances. So much for her coworkers not finding out. "Yup," I said simply.

"Oh my god," Michael repeated. "This is such a wonderful day. You guys get together. Jan and I are back together. And they're serving free ice cream today…"

"Michael, what's up?" Pam said trying to get him to focus.

Michael looked like he had forgotten why he had even come over; he was too focused on his happiness. "I just think this is so wonderful." He gave Pam and I both a large hug. We both had to pry ourselves away.

"Seriously, Michael," Pam said, her voice firmer. "Did you need to tell me something?"

"Yes, yes, yes," Michael said cheerfully. "Jan wanted me to come over and tell you that she spoke to Christian this morning. You remember Christian, the black art critic guy who…"

"Yes, I remember," Pam said, pushing the conversation along.

"Well, he wants a representative of the museum to come up to an opening he's having at one of his galleries," he explained. "It's tonight in New York City. The City of Love. And Jan wanted me to ask if you wanted to go."

"Really?" Pam said looking over at me extremely excited. "Jim, we can go to New York tonight. I mean, if don't have to work." I grinned at her, thrilled that that was the first thing she thought. I nodded, letting her know it was fine by me. Pam glanced back up at Michael. "Yeah, we'll definitely go."

"Alright, I'll just tell Jan," Michael said.

But Michael didn't need to find her since Jan walked into the tent. Michael may have been thrilled to be back together with Jan, but there was no happiness on the woman's face. "Michael, we need to go," Jan snapped.

"Yeah, yeah," Michael said. "I was just telling Pam about the opening in New York. She and Jim said they would go…"

"What?" Jan's eyes grew wide. "Michael, I just told you we didn't need anyone to go."

"Wait, so I can't go?" Pam asked worried.

Jan began searching her purse for something. "No, I need you to stay here to watch the festival."

I could see disappointment growing on Pam's face. "Where are you guys going?" she asked.

Jan pulled out a cigarette box and frantically searched for a cigarette. When none slipped out, she threw the empty box on the table. "Michael and I have to go settle our legal troubles with Mrs. Allen. Michael needs to be there because the woman is pressing charges against him. We're hoping that the suicide attempt will work in our favor."

"Remember, that be-yotch from last night," Michael said with a nasty sneer. "I can't believe she is offended that I tried to kill myself."

"Michael," Jan said, stopping her search to yell at him. "What did I tell you about using that word be-yotch?"

Michael scrunched his nose. "She's suing the museum. And I hate her."

Jan gave him a glare. "Anyway," she continued. "We are going to be gone and I need someone here I can trust. I sent Ryan out to the opening."

Pam's jaw dropped and I was feeling even more irritated at the guy than I had before. "Ryan?" Pam asked, sounding as if she wished it were all a joke.

"Yeah," Jan said angrily, flipping the cover of her purse over in defeat. "We don't need him here and he seemed to be thrilled about it. Anyway, I need you to make sure everything goes off well tonight."

I watched Pam swallow hard. "Actually, Jan, I was hoping that I could have tonight off." I couldn't help but feel as nervous as Pam was looking. It was incredibly selfish of me but I really wanted Pam to have the night off."

Jan gave her a glare. "No."

"But Jan—" Pam moaned.

"If Michael and I get back in time then I don't have a problem with it," Jan said. "But I don't know-" she rubbed her head. "I just don't know. And I know I can count on you to make sure this festival has some shred of dignity to it." She then eyed me with the same dark look that Karen had earlier. Not sure why she was annoyed with me, I turned away. "Just make sure you keep you personal life personal tonight. Come on, Michael. We have to stop at the gas station on the way out." Jan spun on her heel and left, Michael following close behind.

Once they were gone, Pam immediately gave me an apologetic look. "Jim, I don't know what to say-"

"It's alright," I said calmly. There was nothing she could do about it. "And, you know, if we have to, we can always have the date here."

Pam smiled gratefully though she couldn't contain a small sigh.

* * *

"We still haven't discussed where we should go tonight," Pam mentioned as we made our way out of the tent. We had finished lunch and although I had no desire to go, I was already twenty minutes over my normal lunch break.

"Do you really think you're going to be able to get away tonight?" I asked, slipping my hand in hers as we walked towards the parking lot. "I mean, I'm fine with spending time with you here if we need to."

She gave me a lop-sided smile. "Well, as long as Michael doesn't do anything stupid, I should be fine. I mean can that woman really sue us for an attempted suicide? It's crazy."

"I know. As far as I see it, she has no case," I agreed.

Pam let out a nervous laugh. "I just have a bad feeling about it, you know? The museum can't afford any more financial issues. If we do, we might have to file for bankruptcy." She rubbed her head as she continued. "And Jan might lose her job and I would have start wondering about my job and the museum would never get that new wing…"

I could see how the situation was stressing her out. "Well, maybe bankruptcy wouldn't be such a bad thing," I offered, stopping in my track to pull her close to me, wrapping my arms around her shoulders to comfort her. She easily slipped her arms around my waist and rested her head on my chest. "It would be like a get out of jail free card. A do over."

She let out a small groan. "I wished it were that easy."

"I know," I replied as I began to rub her back. Remembering how she reacted to PDA earlier, I worried that she would pull away, but instead she snuggled closer.

"Let's just go away for a while," she said suddenly.

"What?" I asked, genuinely confused by the abrupt statement.

She lifted her head to face me. "Get out of here, spend some time together, just you and I. We could completely ignore our jobs and responsibilities."

Even though I knew she wasn't serious, I would have taken her up on that offer in a heartbeat. "Well, Dwight has a nice beet farm slash bed and breakfast if you're interested," I offered. "He's been trying to get me to visit for years."

"Aw, that sounds sweet," Pam replied.

"No," I shook my head vehemently. "I really doubt it is. In fact, there is a great possibility that we would be murdered in our sleep." Besides, I promised myself, my first night with Pam would not have anything to do with Dwight.

Pam gave a genuine smile before returning her head back on my chest. "So…" she breathed.

"So…"

"There's a really good Mexican restaurant I like downtown," she started again with dinner plans. "Oh, but we had Mexican last night, didn't we." She scrunched her nose, I assume at the memory of Andy losing his temper. "I'd offer to cook but I'm not that good."

"Me neither," I admitted. "And I'm not picky. Whatever you choose I'll be fine with."

Pam contemplated the notion. "Well, what place haven't I been to a million times…"

As she thought about it I noticed that Ryan and Kelly were having some sort of argument standing a few yards away. Kelly looked to be in tears and hurriedly ran off. Ryan had a dark look on his face and didn't seem to be put out by Kelly's emotions. In fact, I thought I saw him laugh to himself. I couldn't believe how much of a jerk the guy was. Ryan then turned in our direction and noticed I was holding Pam in my arms. He stared intently, as if he didn't really believe what he was looking at.

I suddenly felt very grateful for Pam. That I had found her. We were no Ryan and Kelly, that I was certain. I felt so lucky to have her in my life and I never wanted to take that for granted. I eyed Ryan down, letting him know I was aware that he was watching.

"Oh," Pam said suddenly and my attention was fully on her again. "You know what, there's this new Italian restaurant I wanted to try…"

I didn't let her finish. Partly because I wanted to rub it in Ryan's face, partly because I knew she was in this thing as much as I and mostly because she had never looked more beautiful to me in that moment; I twirled her around and dipped her down for a hard kiss. She was so shocked by my actions that she had to grip my arms for balance but kissed me back as best she could. Then, just as quickly, I twirled her back up.

She smiled widely and took a dazed step backwards. "Jim…" she said, holding a hand up to her lips and blushing deeply. She looked around, aware of the few people who had stopped and stared. I glanced up at Ryan, whose eyes were still fixed in our direction and I couldn't help but give him a smug smile. He shook his head in disgust and walked off. "Wha?…" Pam didn't quite know how to respond to my sudden actions.

"I, uh, just really love Italian food," I offered, reveling in how wonderfully off guard I had caught her. She gave me the broad grin that I was beginning to love so much and I knew right then that this was it. There would never be another woman for me.


	19. Big Blue Sea

I returned to the office about forty-five minutes later then my normal scheduled time not caring that I was late because I was on such a high from my lunch with Pam. I came in quietly, hoping that Dwight wouldn't reprimand me for being late but when I entered our cubicle he was immersed in a computer game. For a moment, I stood behind him, watching his player fly through the sky. It didn't take me long to realize he was playing one of those online virtual world things that he was so fond of and that the avatar he had created was nearly identical to himself.

"Hey Dwight," I said placing my bag on my chair. Dwight didn't respond and hunched over his keyboard more. He looked rather intense, his eyes strained as he stared at the screen. "Dwight?" I called a little louder but he didn't respond. "So, am I writing this thing alone?" I asked thinking that maybe it was better if he stayed in that trance. "Hey, Dwight, there's a robot throwing beets at people right outside!" I shouted just to see how far gone he was. Not even turning around, he mumbled something inaudible then groaned at my computer.

While I wasn't surprised that Dwight was infatuated with a video game, I thought it was odd that he would neglect his work, which was very atypical. If I had cared more, I would have asked if he were alright but instead I sat down into my chair and turned on the computer.

The first thing I did was check my email and when I saw that I had over fifty new messages I realized just how absent I had been from my work lately. Working from the oldest to most recent I noticed most of the email wasn't necessary, there were a few articles on sports I would read later, a few memos that were no longer relevant, and one from an old friend asking if I wanted to be in their fantasy football league this year.

There was one from Karen dated two days ago, the day she left for her sister's wedding, and I felt a horrible twinge of guilt when I read her cheerful letter listing off a dozen things we could go do when she got back. She had been having a good time with her sister but mentioned that she missed me and couldn't wait to get back home. Not wanting to be reminded of how much of a jerk I could occasionally be, I deleted the email immediately.

While I had been reading, a new message appeared in the inbox. It was a forward from my boss originally from a graphic designer firm that I had never heard of and when I opened the message I found a simple note: Here are the previews of the website, let us know what you think. I wasn't sure why I had received this and figured that Josh just wanted to show everyone what the new website would look like. Not bothering to even look at the previews, I closed the window and got out of my email.

I wiggled in my seat, feeling like I had already been sitting there too long and glanced over at Dwight who was still playing his game. I didn't feel like making the effort to get his attention so instead, I thought I'd write the article on the marathon without him and opened my notes.

The article wasn't that hard to write but my mind kept straying. I thought of Pam and wondered what she was doing out at the festival. I thought of tonight, of our date, and began come up with ideas for what to do. As soon as that was in my head, I found it difficult to write about runners in a race that held little interest to me. I occasionally glanced up at the clock to see that time was moving incredibly slow and would continue to do so since I was so eager to leave. By the time I had actually finished the article, it was only two and I knew I had another few agonizing hours to go before I could leave.

While it was a slow news day, not much that needed to be covered, I figured I could do a little research and find something of some interest but even that proved difficult as nothing but going back to the art festival seemed to interest me. I had barely started searching the internet when Dwight let out a loud, frustrated grunt and slammed his fists on his desk.

"Noooo," he screamed at the computer. "You stupid idiot. Don't you know anything?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, my full attention on Dwight now. "Did you lose your game?"

"It's not a game," Dwight surprisingly shot back. I didn't think he had heard me.

"Well, it looks like a game. There appear to be guns," I noted, seeing not only Dwight but also others with shotguns in their hands.

"This is Second Life, Jim," Dwight snarled, still not looking at me. "I don't know why you never pay attention when I talk to you. And those are other people who think they know the proper rules to a paintball war but are obviously mistaken."

I raised my eyebrows. "You are playing paintball…online. Can't you play it with people here in reality."

Dwight growled. "These people are real, Jim. And besides, I would never trust Mose with a paintball gun. Also, this way it is less messy. Now if you leave me alone I am almost finished single handedly winning this war. If only those idiots on my own team would just get out of the way…" He violently slammed down on the keyboard and I decided it would be best to let him be.

I had originally intended to get back to work but curiosity nagged at me so I looked up what Second Life was. I had heard of it but had never used it and before long, the idea came to me that it would be great fun to follow around Dwight, I began creating an avatar of my own. I didn't realize how involved it was and just the task of setting up an account and personalizing it, not to mention spending a great deal of time making the avatar just the way I wanted proved to be a time consuming task.

Eventually, I was able to get it all worked out and I was soon on my way to tracking Dwight. After more searching, lots of looking at the help function, and a few failed attempts, I was able to find Dwight, still playing paintball. He hadn't noticed I joined the game, being too busy chasing around some Goth-looking teenage avatar. Amused that he was distracted, I was able to use the paintball gun I had and shot him in the shoulder from behind. I went around the corner of a building so he couldn't see me but his avatar looked as irate as he did. I looked up from my computer to see him fuming and tried hard to suppress a laugh. Before I could go after him again, my phone rang.

It was Pam and she was probably the only one who could turn my attention away from my newfound hobby. "Hey," I said brightly into the phone.

"Hey," she returned and just by the sound of her voice, I could tell she was smiling. The thought gave me a warm feeling inside. "Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No, not at all," I assured her. "What's up?"

"Well, I was thinking," she started. "I know we were going to do that whole, traditional, guy picks up the girl at her home and go out thing, but would be okay if you just picked me up from work? I mean, um, you could drop me off at my apartment and come back or stay and you could just…stay or whatever, while I changed. Well, that's weird isn't it? And Michael and Jan aren't back so I just thought…"

"Yes," I interrupted. I grinned to myself, loving how flustered I made her and any excuse to be in her apartment again was fine by me. "I will definitely come pick you up. I'll be there when I get done with work."

"Really?" she asked. I could sense the excitement in her voice, which made me want to leave right that second. "What time do you think you'll be here?"

I looked up at the clock; surprised to find that had I had spent nearly two and a half hours on Second Life. "Oh, wow," I said into the phone. "You know what, I think I may finish up what I have here and head on over there."

"Awesome," Pam replied.

"So, how's the festival going?" I asked leaning back in my chair.

"Pretty well," she replied. "With Michael and Jan gone there's a sense of calmness that I think was missing the first few days. It's running rather smoothly and part of me hopes they don't come back until tomorrow." She let out a tiny laugh at the end of her sentence. "Oh, hey, that reminds me, I know you've been over here a lot lately but I was wondering if you'd be interested in coming to the fireworks show tonight? It's just one of the few things I've been looking forward too."

"Yeah, I'd love too," I replied happily.

"Really?" she sounded relieved.

"Of course, I…" I was interrupted by a loud bang that came from computer. Dwight had found my avatar and shot me in the head with the paintball gun. I could hear his sardonic laugh from across the room.

"What was that?" Pam asked rather concerned.

"Oh, that was Dwight," I said as if it was no big deal.

"What did he do?" Pam continued. "It sounded like he shot something."

"Yeah, he shot me in the head," I said simply.

"What!" She let out a laugh because obviously, I was fine.

"It's a online game," I explained quickly. "Or social interactive virtual thing. And Dwight shot me with a paintball gun. Have you ever heard of Second Life?"

"Yeah," she said slowly. "You guys are on Second Life in the middle of the work day?" she was more amused then anything.

I realized how unprofessional that sounded. "Uh, yeah," I gave. "It's, uh, a teamwork building thing."

"Uh-huh," she replied, obviously not believing that. "I'll bet you're one of those people who spent hours creating the perfect avatar," she teased.

"No, it didn't take me that long," I insisted.

"Is it a better looking version…"

"A better looking version?"

"…one that has all sorts of skills you don't really have?" She laughed.

"Uh, I just created this thing, I really didn't…"

"Ooohh, can I see it tonight?" she sounded thrilled at the prospect even though I wasn't so sure. "I'll use it and shoot Dwight back in the head for you. We can watch his head explode together."

"Whoa, Beesly," I said with a laugh. "This is a new and interesting side I haven't seen."

"I'm just full of surprises," she assured me. There was no doubt in my mind that she was.

Before I could reply, the phone on my desk rang. "Hey, Pam, hang on a sec," I said, putting my cell on mute and picking up the work phone. It was my boss, Josh and he didn't sound too happy. He asked to see me in his office and a rush of nervousness swept over me. When I hung up with him, I unmuted my cell. "Pam, I, uh, need to go."

"Is everything alright?" she asked, quickly picking up the shift in my tone of voice.

"Yeah, it's just work related," I said not feeling like I needed to elaborate. "I'll just call you when I'm on my way over, okay?"

"Alright," she said hesitantly. "Talk to you later."

"Yup, see you in a bit," I returned. I waited a moment to brace myself before heading out to see Josh.

* * *

"Hey, Dwight," I said standing behind him as he still stayed glued to his computer. "I need to go see Josh, do you want me to give him a hard copy of the marathon story or do you want to read it first." I didn't care either way, but I knew how Dwight would be if I didn't ask first.

"Don't need to worry about that," Dwight said as he frantically moved his joystick and slammed on the computer keys. His avatar swirled around the sky, avoiding fake paintball pellets. "I have already accomplished that task and sent him a copy earlier."

"What?" I asked confused. I was already nervous about seeing Josh and hoped a completed assignment may have made things a little easier.

"That's what happens when you take a two hour lunch, Jim," he said with a smirk.

"And you didn't think to tell me when I got back?" I was now angry that he purposely went out of his way to make my life miserable.

"That's life," he replied unapologetically. He cackled unnervingly and I couldn't tell if it was at the computer screen or me.

Not wanting to find out I took off down the hall for Josh's office, contemplating all the things he could possibly have to talk to me about along the way. While it could have been anything, including just informing me about another assignment, I had an uneasy feeling that the meeting would not go well. At least, hopefully, I could explain that Dwight didn't wait for me before writing the marathon article. Granted, I wasn't never going to wait for Dwight either but maybe it would gain me a few points with Josh.

The office door was shut when I arrived and Karen stood across from it leaning again the wall. She was studying a piece of paper when I approached and when she looked up to see me coming she rolled her eyes. As I came up beside her, she remained silent and walked away. I should have remained quiet as well but wanting to see if she knew anything about what my boss wanted, I asked her a question.

"Did Josh call you down here too?"

She eyed me darkly. "No," she replied shortly. "I was just going to let Josh know I still have these tickets and I'll be doing the story on the play tonight.."

"Oh, you're going to a play?" I asked, trying to sound interested, anything to take away the awkwardness of the situation.

"Oh my god," she said in sheer disbelief. "You don't even remember. Why would I expect you to?" she muttered.

It then dawned on me that before she left to go to her sister's wedding she had asked me to come to an assignment with her. A local adaptation and production of a classic novel was premiering that night at a local theater. "A Room with A View?" I asked feeling even more guilty than I had before.

"And do you know what the worst part is?" she asked, now sounding angry like she had early that morning. "I hated the novel. Why would anyone want to make a play based off that novel? The main character is dull and wishy-washy. She has a nice life ahead of her and she just runs off on a whim with some guy she barely knows. She's an idiot. And I can't get out of this because no one else will take it. So that's two hours of suffering for me."

Feeling as though I should make it up to her, and thinking it might make a great first date idea for Pam, I could take the tickets from her. "Uh, Karen, if you really don't want to do it, I could go."

She pursed her lips. "Why, so you can spend the next three days with the theater company?" her words dripped with sarcasm. "So you can enjoy yourself with your new girlfriend and eventually leave me with the article to write? I am not going to give you the satisfaction."

I let out a sigh, let the silence resume between us and rested my back against the wall, making sure to keep a few feet away from Karen. I could see in the glass windows of Josh's office and it looked like Josh was busy talking to Stanley. I watched the two talk for a few minutes and I noticed Josh's face become grim.

"Hey, what's going on in there?" I asked even though Karen didn't seem like talking.

"You mean you haven't heard," she said with a twisted smile. "Stanley got a better offer at some paper in Utica. And with all the times he's had to cover your butt over the past week, apparently he feels underappreciated and overworked. He put in his two weeks notice this morning. I guess you can blame yourself for us losing one of our best reporters. Maybe Josh wants to personally thank you."

My stomach churned. "I never intended this to happen," I let out not knowing what to say and I knew Karen was right, that it was my fault that I had been irresponsible about my job lately.

Karen studied me carefully and for a moment I thought I saw pity sweep over her face. "What happened Jim?" she asked finally, her tone a bit calmer than before. "I feel like…like I don't even know you anymore. I mean, I go away for a few days and I come back and it's like you're this entirely new person that I've never met. The Jim I knew wouldn't blow his work off. The Jim I knew wouldn't get in fights with people's ex-husbands."

I looked at her surprised she knew that. "How did…"

"Darryl," she explained simply. "Told me everything this morning."

I could see the hurt in her eyes and I looked at the ground trying to avoid her stare. I felt like a bad guy.

"And I thought we were doing well," Karen reflected looking up at the ceiling.

I wasn't sure I could agree with that. I remembered the year I spent with Karen clearly, all the arguing, the endless talks about the relationship, the break-up that didn't end. And, true, we had been getting along better recently but we were becoming friends again. With Karen, I always felt like I was being pushed to something. It never felt easy. Not like it did with Pam. I thought about how natural it felt to be with Pam and lamented the fact that I hadn't met her earlier in life. I couldn't help but think it would have saved all of us, including Karen, some pain.

I was so lost in my thoughts I hadn't realized Karen had started speaking again. "…and we started to make all these plans again," she was saying even though I wasn't listening entirely. "And that kiss, Jim. Didn't that mean anything to you?"

"No, it didn't," I responded not thinking before I spoke. The minute it was out of my mouth I regretted saying it. Seeing the pained look on her face, as though I had slapped her, made me a little ill. "I mean, not that it didn't at the time," I tried back peddling but the more I kept talking the worse it got. "I mean, I wanted to kiss you but I didn't feel anything and I should have said something but then I met Pam and it…doesn't…matter…" I trailed off as I watched Karen's eyes grow wider and wider.

"Thank you for that," she said harshly. "Thank you for telling me how little I mean to you and how great your new relationship is, even though you've known the girl only a few days but, hey, I guess that doesn't stop you from sleeping with her right away. Your honesty has been enlightening, thank you for that."

"I haven't slept with her," I said defensively.

"What?" she seemed shocked. "You spent the night with her."

"We talked all night," I said quietly. Karen's face paled at the realization. I wondered if it had been only about sex, Karen could have handle that better. But what Pam and I the connection already seemed to run so much deeper and as that dawned on Karen, her eyes began to tear up. She had been a rock up until that point and she now she began to crumble. I felt horrible that I was responsible for her feeling this way. "Karen, I'm so-"

"Is she worth it?" Karen asked, her voice high and shaky. "Is she worth all the damage to your job, your career, your personal relationships."

I could only tell her the truth. "Yes," I said in all seriousness, feeling warm at the thought of how much Pam meant to me. "She is."

"Ok then," Karen said trying hard to hold it together. "I'm just gonna…I'll just…I'll talk to Josh later," she finally got out. She turned her back on me and started to walk away.

"Karen, I-" I started to call out.

She held up her hand. "Just don't Jim," she said. "Just don't."

Before I could say anything more, Stanley came out of Josh's office. He gave me an angry look, which made me even more nervous about sitting down with Josh.

"I'm staying," Stanley said in a grumpy voice. "I got a raise outta this situation. But I swear, if you dump one more of your stories in my lap, it'll be a dark day for you."

I shivered. Never in my life had I heard Stanley talk like that. I nodded and went past him into Josh's office.

* * *

I took a seat across from Josh, folded my hands in my lap and waited. Josh, who sat forward over his desk, gazed over me, as if deeply contemplating what to say. He opened his mouth once and shut it again changing his mind about how to start. I did my best not to squirm but the more time we sat in silence, the more nervous I got. I didn't normally feel this uncomfortable in Josh's presence but I don't believe he ever gave me that worried look either.

"How's Karen doing?" Josh asked unexpectedly.

I was taken off guard by the question and wasn't entirely sure how I should respond. "Um…I'm not sure. I haven't really seen her lately."

Josh nodded though I wasn't sure he believed me. "She just seems…down lately. Are you guys…"

"No," I said quickly. Whatever it was that Josh wanted to ask, I didn't really want to know. I didn't want to even think about Karen and hoped that eventually I could erase the memory of our hallway conversation permanently.

"Oh," Josh could take the hint and decided to move on. "Um, Jim, there are some things I need to discuss with you but first, did you get the evaluation of the web page done?"

I was utterly confused as to what he was talking about. "Uh…I'm sorry what?"

"This morning, I asked for each department to look at the webpage design and give me their opinion on them," he explained. I continued to stare at him blankly. "I forwarded you the sample. Didn't you get it?"

It started to dawn on me now what he was talking about. That strange email from a graphic design company I had never heard of. But for the life of me, I couldn't remember anything that was in it nor did I remember actually agreeing to look over it. It must have been during the morning meeting and I had completely blocked it out. I sank lower in my seat. "I…uh, yeah I just have been busy. I'll be sure to get that to you right away."

Josh let out a disappointed sigh and rubbed his forehead. "Jim, is there anything you want to tell me?"

I shifted my weight uneasily. "I'm not sure what you're getting at."

Josh pointed up at my eye. "I, uh, heard about the fight."

My hand automatically flew up to my eye and I wished I had taken that waitress at the diner this morning's offer to give me some make-up to cover it up. "Oh, this, it's nothing. Really…"

"It's not nothing when one of my promising young reporters starts getting into fights in public places. Especially when it's uncharacteristic. Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? Are you sure there isn't something going on that I should know about it."

I squirmed again. I wasn't sure how explaining an infatuation with my new relationship had pretty much put the rest of my life hold would be beneficial to the situation, so instead, I lied. "No, nothing that I can think of."

Josh let out another sigh. "Jim, do you remember back when you first started the big birthday fiasco?" I nodded, remembering clearly but wondered where he was going with it and didn't think it could be anything good. "That started out as me wanting to throw a party for a good friend and older reporter here. Afterwards, a few other reporters decided they wanted their birthdays celebrated and once we did that, other departments, secretaries, everyone wanted their birthdays celebrated. Eventually, I decided it would be easier to just celebrate them all at the same time. And that ended up being more of a hassle then trying to remember everyone's birthday in the first place so we just don't do that anymore. I chalk it up to bad judgment on my part. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

I shook my head, I honestly didn't. "No," I replied slowly.

"I'm not sure what has been going on with you lately," Josh continued seriously. "And at this point, I'm not sure I want to know but in the past week, you've missed two story deadlines, Karen has had to finish a story that you begged me to do, Dwight turned the story on the marathon…"

"…I did write that," I protested automatically. "Dwight just turned it in without me knowing."

"Fine," Josh said dismissively. "That story wasn't important anyway but then I asked you to do a menial task to help us out and you claim to have been busy. Dwight mentioned that you were at lunch for two hours, is that correct?"

I suddenly felt very queasy. Never had I been questioned like this at work and I was starting to fear for my job. "I, uh…" I trailed off not able to come up with a suitable answer.

"Look, Jim, we have very strict rules at this newspaper," Josh said with a frown. I stared at my lap trying to avoid his eyes. "And if it were any other editor, I think they have let you go by now. But I like you Jim. And I think that whatever has caused this lapse in judgment lately will pass. Instead of firing you, I'm going to put you on probation. Just show some initiative, that you still care about your job and have that ambition I found in the guy I hired, and you'll be fine."

I let out a breath of relief. "Oh my god, yes, I'll definitely pick up my work ethic," I replied happy that I was still employed. "Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it."

For the first time since I entered the room, Josh smiled. "Good. Okay, so I still would like your opinion on the new website design by this afternoon. I'll talk to Dwight, again, about sending things in without his co-author. That talk is getting a little old now but I don't need to tell you. Oh, and I'm not sure how much you've heard but Stanley has decided to stay though I suggest, if you are really in a bind, that you go somewhere else if you need to trade a story."

I gave him a weak smile. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, I'll get that stuff to you right away."

"Oh, and I might have a story for you to cover this evening, can you be on call?" he asked.

A twisted feeling came grew in my stomach again. "Uh, sure," I said quietly hoping that it was nothing that would compromise my date with Pam.

"There's a retired local golf pro in town," Josh explained. "If I could pull some strings, we could get an interview. Thought that story might be fun for you. I'll give you call if it's a go."

I nodded feeling conflicted. Any other day I would love to talk to any professional athlete. Tonight, however, I wanted for myself. I began to pray that my boss wouldn't call. "Alright, sounds good," I said with a forced smile.

"Okay then, that's all I need," Josh said standing. "I'll be happy to see you get back on your game."

"Me too," I said as I stood as well.

Josh opened his door. "Hey, one last thing. Do you think you can talk with Karen? I'm a little worried about her and I know even if you guys aren't together, you've been friends for a long time."

"Uh, yeah," I replied hesitantly. I had to laugh a little to myself as I was probably the last person Karen wanted to talk to.

"Thanks, Jim," Josh said with an encouraging smile.

"No problem," I replied, quickly heading out the door, glad that talk was over and at the least, I still had my job intact.

* * *

It didn't take me long to accomplish getting the web designs checked out. And after Dwight was reprimanded for turning in the article without me, in which he was not happy about and let me know extensively when he got back from Josh's office, the marathon article was finished and a final draft was turned in. I had a few smaller things to take care of and a couple of emails to reply to but as soon as I hit send on the last one, I shut down my computer and head out, happy that I could call it a day. Josh had yet to mention more about the golfer interview and as I grabbed my bag and jacket, I hoped that my luck would continue.

I was earlier than I expected I would be heading over to the festival but I doubted Pam would care. I raced across town, already feeling better that the closer I got to Pam, the more I could put Karen, the probation, and work in general behind me. My troubles seemed to fade knowing that I got to spend the rest of my evening with Pam. It wasn't long before I arrived, parked my car, threw my jacket and tie in the backseat, and headed into the park.

I thought I would have to call her to find her location but I found Pam easily. Up at the pavilion there were dozens of ping-pong tables set up, what that had to do with art I couldn't tell you, but there was Pam off to the far left side engaged in a game with Kelly. I came up slowly behind Pam, amused as I watched the women attempt to hit the ball back and forth. Neither seemed to be that good but both had serious looks on their faces as if the game meant something to them. The closer I got it seemed as though they were engrossed in some sort of argument.

"So, were your parents first cousins that sucked at ping-pong? Because that's how you play," I heard Kelly taunt Pam as she hit the ball. It didn't get over the net and she had to try again.

"Well…you suck too," Pam shot back.

"You are so going down, Beesly," Kelly was able to hit the ball over the net this time and Pam missed the shot.

"Oh, I would have gotten that if I wasn't blinded by that hideous yellow dress you have on," Pam said, grabbing the ball for her serve.

"Well, at least I don't shop at a thrift store," Kelly answered. Pam hit the ball and they were able to volley it twice before it bounced off the table again, this time on Kelly's side.

"Maybe I like the thrift store," Pam said defensively, awaiting the ball for her serve.

"You're just cheap," Kelly retorted, bouncing the ball at Pam.

"You're the cheap one," Pam said. It had a definite double meaning that Kelly seemed to miss. The ping-pong ball lay on the table, forgotten.

"Your momma's cheap," Kelly sneered.

"My momma is not cheap!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

I couldn't suppress my laughter any longer and chuckled loudly at their trash talk. Both girls' heads shot in my direction, Kelly's with a scowl, Pam with a broad grin upon seeing me.

"Oh, god, you're here again?" was Kelly's immediate reaction.

"Hey," Pam said brightly, placing her paddle on the table. "I thought you were going to call."

"I know," I said coming up to her and placing my arms around her. "I got out early and thought I'd surprise you." I dipped down to give her a gentle kiss.

She blushed and tilted her head towards Kelly. "Jim…"

"Oh…my…god!" Kelly breathed. "Are you guys together? Pam, why didn't you tell me? I can't believe you would hold out on me after all the dark secrets I share with you. It's only fair." Kelly then turned towards me, "Oh my god, no wonder you came back today. Oh, and that's why you stood up to Roy yesterday and he totally punched you out. That was soooo romantic…" she continued to gush.

Pam looked up at me with a smirk. "See what you did," she teased.

I shrugged. "Worth it," I gave. She had no idea how happy I was just to be standing there holding her in my arms.

Kelly encroached on us and reached her hand up to touch my face. I pulled away, but she persisted laying her fingers on my eye. "Yeah, that black eye so tacky, I know just the stuff to cover that up."

"Why don't you go get that," Pam said thoughtfully. I my eyebrows rose in wonderment until Kelly turned away excitedly, bouncing off the pavement chattering about shades of cover-up and I realized it was Pam's way of getting rid of Kelly.

"Thank you," I said smiling before giving her another small kiss.

"Oh, she will be back," Pam warned. "I only bought us a half hour at most."

"So, why don't you and I just get out of here," I suggested.

Pam let out a tiny groan. "I can't go anywhere until Jan and Michael get back. I'm sorry."

"That's fine," I said, I didn't care where we were, as long as we were together. "Why don't we…" I glanced over at the ping-pong table. "…play a game." I broke away from her and grabbed Kelly's discarded ping-pong paddle.

"Think you're any good?" she challenged, picking up her own paddle.

"Oh, I know I'm good," I joked. Actually, I sucked at ping-pong but she didn't know that…yet. I grabbed the ball and proceeded to do the only thing I knew how, a special serve that my brothers may or may not have made up and taught me back in the fourth grade. "Spin serve," I called out as I whacked the ball. It hit the edge of the table and shot out into the grass.

Pam doubled over in laughter. "That was…great," she said as she gasped for air.

"Yeah, like you were doing any better with Kelly," I gave back as I fetched the ball and tossed her the ball.

"I can do better then that," she replied.

"Bring it, Beesly," I dared.

"Oh, I will," she shot back. She hit the ball hard it bounced off the table, and got stuck between the net wires right in the middle. Pam and I both leaned forward to inspect it.

"Wow," I said amazed. "That was impressive."

Pam laughed and came around the table to get the ball out. We continued to play, horrible as ever, but laughing and joking as we did so. We were able to get into the middle of our second game when Pam looked behind me and her face fell. I turned my head to see Jan approaching the pavilion, a scowl on her face, Michael trailing with his head down a few feet behind her.

"Oh, no," Pam said as she came around the table beside me. "Hey, Jan," Pam said hesitantly as Jan came up to us. "Did you guys get things smoothed over with Mrs. Allen?"

Jan pursed her lips together so tightly that I feared it was taking every ounce of her composure not to start screaming. Whatever had happened, it was bad. "Well, maybe Michael should tell you how it went."

Michael stood a good two feet behind her staring at the grass. For once, he was rather quiet. "No, Jan, I, uh, think you should tell it."

"Well, unfortunately, the museum is going to be sued," Jan explained pretending as if it were the greatest news in the world. "And we can thank Michael and his huge mouth for that."

"It wasn't my fault," Michael mumbled.

"Wasn't your fault?" Jan shouted. A family playing ping-pong at the next table looked up at her but that didn't stop Jan from continuing to yell. "Michael, who taunted Mrs. Allen in front of the judge? Who made a complete fool of himself causing the judge to think that our museum employees, suicidal or not, are completely crazy. It wasn't me, Michael. I wish to hell I never had to bring you, but this whole mess started when you tried to jump off the roof!" Jan turned her attention back towards Pam and I and my first instinct was to run. "So, Pam, how has it been here today?"

"Oh, it's been fine," Pam let out nervously. I could tell she was very uncomfortable and I didn't blame her. I barely knew Jan and I did not want to be standing right there. "Actually, uh, Jan, I was wondering if I could have the rest of the evening off, since, you know, you guys are back."

"The evening off, why?" Jan demanded. I had thought my job would get in the way of our date. I never anticipated Pam's doing so.

"Well," Pam started meekly. "Jim and I…"

"Hmmm…" Jan said cutting her off to look me up and down. "Yes, a reporter." I wasn't sure how to respond or if I even should, so I stayed quiet. "Are you guys going out to dinner? I could use dinner. I could use a drink…" Jan trailed off rubbing her head. A sudden scary smile climbed on her face. "You know what, dinner would be fantastic. It could be like a double date," she exclaimed, her entire demeanor changing to excited.

Pam and I exchanged horrified looks. Having dinner with Jan was the last way I wanted to spend my first date with Pam. It was made even worse when Jan invited a stunned Michael to come a long and mentioned meeting at an overpriced French restaurant called Le Fromage.

"Jan, are you sure…" Pam tried in hopes that we could get out of it.

"Yes, we are doing this," Jan insisted. "This will be good for all of us." She grabbed Pam and I by the arms and began ushering us towards the parking lot. "Come on, Michael," she called out to Michael, who was pacing in the grass some feet away. "We're going out to dinner."


	20. That One Night

I knew this guy. His name was Murphy and he had this theory: If something can go wrong, it will. I usually chose to ignore such a pessimistic outlook on life but that evening, after the crappy day I had already had, I couldn't help but think that Murphy seemed to know what he was talking about.

As far as first dates go, I've had my fair share of uncomfortable and even awkward ones but never in my life had I been on a date that was so…uniquely bizarre. Granted, it was strange enough going on a first date when another couple was involved. No, I couldn't call Michael and Jan a couple, 'insane lunatics' is a better description. Anyway, it was strange enough being on a supposed double date with your girlfriend's boss and, well, whatever Michael was, the fact that it reached heights of extreme embarrassment is putting it mildly. My point is, after Pam and I made it safely to the other side of the street, and stood in awe watching the smoke omit from the restaurant, I vowed I would never go on another first date. It ended up being a vow I would never break.

On the way over the restaurant, long before any insanity started, I had an ill feeling about the situation and told Pam that I thought we should get out of it. "Is it really that important?" I asked as I drove her to the tiny French restaurant on the other side of the town. Michael and Jan had thankfully decided to drive separately. "I mean, she can't fire you or anything if we just don't show up, right?"

"It's Jan," Pam said as she nervously played with the gold chain around her neck. "She might. Jim, I'm so sorry, really, I promise, we'll order, eat quickly, then get out, okay?"

I knew it wasn't her ideal situation either and tried to be as supportive as possible. "That's fine, I mean, how bad could it be?"

Her eyebrows rose. "How can you say that when you have been at the festival the past few days?"

I gave her a lop-sided smile. "Eat and out, got it," I reiterated hoping that this little excursion wouldn't take too long and that Pam and I could finally have some alone time together.

When we arrived at Le Fromage, Michael and Jan were already waiting for us. Jan had a complimentary cocktail in her hand and swayed easily back and forth making me think that it wasn't her first one. The restaurant was incredibly busy and we had to push through the other parties to greet them. They were sitting in a couple of chairs, backed into the corner, near the entrance. "Pam, I am so glad you made it," Jan said in a false warm tone, "Jim, nice to see you again." Michael waved and gave a weak smile. It had only been ten minutes or so, but Jan's demeanor had changed dramatically, which made me a little weary.

We looked around for more chairs, but there were so many people there, that there were no open places for Pam and I to sit, therefore we had to stand as we waited. Jan noticed this and scolded Michael over his own chair, "Michael, get up so Pam can have a place to sit."

"But my legs hurt," Michael complained. "I still have my injury from falling out of the tree."

"That was two days ago and you're being rude," Jan sneered, "Besides, Pam is a lady, she should be sitting down."

"No, I'm fine," Pam said. I could tell she desperately wanted to keep the peace. Jan and Michael both seemed to be in a fragile state of mind.

"No, Michael has to learn how to not be rude," Jan pushed Michael out of his chair and Michael reluctantly stood up. Pam stared at the seat, hesitant to sit next to Jan. "Sit, Pam, sit," Jan barked. Pam did so immediately.

None of us said anything while we waited. Pam watched the people come in and out of the restaurant. People were filling the lobby quickly, pushing the four of us closer together. I had my eyes fixated on a simple picture of flowers located on the beige wall above Pam's head. I had plenty of things I wanted to say, but didn't feel like having any conversation with Pam with Michael and Jan right there.

Michael was intently listening to the classical music playing overhead. "Why do they always play classical music at these fancy places?" Michael asked finally. "Wouldn't it be great if they played rock and roll or something to lighten the mood. This music makes this place feel so tensious."

"It sets the romantic atmosphere," Jan snapped.

"Music made for elevators is not romantic," Michael argued back, "Oh wait…I think this is Yo Yo Ma."

There was a clarinet and flute duet going on, it couldn't be Yo Yo Ma, but I didn't say anything, Jan did. "Yo Yo Ma plays the violin," she pointed out.

"No he doesn't," Michael shot back, "I know, cause this is the famous recording Yo Yo Ma did of Beethoven's 12th symphony."

Pam and I exchanged confused looks. "Yo Yo Ma plays the cello and Beethoven didn't write twelve symphonies, only nine were complete," I finally informed them hoping the argument would stop. Michael and Jan were already beginning to get looks from other the parties that were waiting.

Jan looked at me hard. "I'm pretty sure he plays the violin," she stated again. "But I wouldn't expect a sports reporter to know much about music."

"No, he's right," Pam said coming to my defense but Jan shot her a glare, which Pam took as a cue to stop talking. If I had known that this was an indication of how the rest of the night was going to go, I would have taken Pam out of there at that moment.

The minutes of agonizing silence went on until nearly an hour had passed. Pam clutched her stomach, obviously hungry and I figured she hadn't eaten since our lunch hours ago. "Um, you guys did put the name of our party down, right?" I asked, fearing another glare from Jan.

"Michael put it down when we first got here," she said harshly. She turned towards him because even she knew that Michael wasn't always trusted. "Right?"

"Well, three other parties out of four have gone in," Pam complained. "And they all got here after us."

"Hey, I put our name down," Michael insisted not liking that we were ganging up on him. "Just listen for the name Scarn. I gave the name Michael Scarn, after my alter ego. I thought it would be funny." He let out a little giggle.

"Scarn!" Pam said, clearly upset. "They called that name forty minutes ago."

"Was that when I was in the bathroom?" Michael asked, not getting what he had done wrong.

"Maybe we should go to another restaurant," I suggested, if nothing else we could find something not nearly so expensive.

"No, no," Jan insisted. "We'll just put our name down now, it shouldn't be too much trouble. They should be able to squeeze us in, in no time."

I didn't know who she was trying to kid; the lobby was twice as crowded as when we got here. It'd be another hour before we were able to sit down and I hated having to watch Pam rock back and forth with hunger pains in her stomach. "I'll take care of it," I said making my way through the crowd of people towards the hostess.

There was an old couple in front of me and I had to wait until they were done until I could talk to her. They were hard of hearing and with the noise in the lobby; it made it difficult for them to communicate to the hostess. Eventually they were done and stepped aside so I could make my request.

I was lucky that the hostess was a young, cute blonde girl, instead of the stuffy older gentleman who had been hosting when we got here. I figured I could use it to my advantage. I leaned on the podium so my face was close to hers. "Hi," I said using my most charming voice and smile.

"Hi," she let out a giggle and I noticed her cheeks turn a little flush. I was slightly amused that my plan might actually work.

"My party was called earlier but we missed the call. Do you think we can get a table now anyway?" I asked.

She seemed flustered as she flipped through the papers on the podium, "I don't think so…" she stuttered. "If you missed your call, then you're going to have to wait." She looked like she was having a hard time telling me this.

I leaned in farther, my face close to hers. "Listen," I scanned her nametag, "Krissy. You like romantic stories right?" I said in a low and slightly seductive tone. I felt a little strange doing so, especially with Pam across the way but Krissy was completely hooked and so I went with it. Krissy nodded her head, unable to look me in the eye. "See that girl sitting over there below the painting. That's my girlfriend. It's our anniversary. One year ago, at this restaurant, we started dating and tonight I was going to propose at the exact moment we made it official. But that moment is coming soon, so if we don't have a table, I'm not going to be able to pull it off. Then my girlfriend would be sad and her parents, that couple with her, would be upset. Please don't let this moment be ruined for us."

Krissy looked incredibly intrigued by story. "Alright…" she stuttered, "But it's going to cost you."

"What?" I asked sharply, breaking character. She held out her hand. "How much?"

"Fifty dollars," she said. Fifty? Maybe she hadn't been as taken in as I thought or at least knew how to make a quick buck.

I pulled out my wallet and grabbed three twenties. "Here, keep the change." I said glumly.

She counted her money happily. "Alright, you're at the top of the list," she said. "Good luck," she offered as I made my way back to our party.

"Were you flirting with the hostess?" Pam asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Would you like to stay here for another hour?" I shot back. Pam let it drop.

Krissy came and got as after only a few minutes. She gave me a wink as she took us to our seats. Pam noticed and gave me a slight glare. Michael mistook the wink for him and grinned back at her.

"You know, you have a very lovely ponytail," Michael complimented as we sat down at the small table. It was located near the kitchen and dimly lit but I couldn't complain too much because at least we had a table now. "I like the ribbons," Michael continued. "They've very pretty."

The hostess looked at him oddly. "Uh, thank you," she replied confused as she placed down our menus.

Jan, however, stared daggers at her not liking that Michael was paying attention to anyone else. In what I believe was an attempt to make Michael just as jealous, Jan began talking to me. "So, Jim," she started. "How lovely that you and Pam have started dating." She gave me a devilish little grin and reached out to grab my upper arm. "You are such an adorable cutie pie." She squeezed my arm a few times and I attempted to pull away from her but she wouldn't let go. "Oh, wow, do you work out?"

My face turned crimson and I turned towards Pam who was watching the whole scene with wide eyes. "Oh, no, not really," I managed to state trying to pull my chair farther away from Jan.

Michael didn't seem to notice Jan's blatant come on to me though. He was too busy watching Krissy walk away, stopping to chat for a moment with an unkempt looking college-aged kid who ended up being our waiter. The boy came over and before he said anything took along look over Pam before turning to me and mouthing the word 'nice'. I could only assume Krissy had told our waiter, who's name tag read Sean, that I was supposedly going to propose.

"Would you like to hear our specials?" he asked finally getting to the important part.

Jan waved them away, "Oh, I'll be ordering for everyone," She stated firmly. Pam and I both began to protest, but she continued. "Look, I thought it would be nice of me to treat everyone tonight, it's only fair that I pick the meals. I think we'll all take the pulled pork platter and we'll need a bottle of your finest champagne. Bring the champagne out pronto," she ordered.

The boy didn't seem to care that we were all annoyed about Jan ordering for us but Pam piped up. "Jan, I can't eat pork."

"What? Why not?" Jan looked insulted.

"I didn't know you were Jewish," Michael said interested.

"I'm not," Pam said hesitantly. It shouldn't have mattered anyway, I thought. "I just get sick when I eat it, so I don't."

"Oh, Pam, don't be silly," Jan said. "She'll have the pork platter too," she told the waiter.

"You know Jan, it's really not good for someone to eat meat that…" Jan shot me a look so fierce that I stopped mid-sentence.

"Why don't we get an appetizer, then," Pam suggested. I could hear her stomach growling and I was getting a bit hungry myself.

"They over price all of that," Jan said dismissively. "Besides, our platters should be filling enough."

"We're kind of backed up," The waiter began to advise. "You might want…" Jan shot him a death look as well, shutting the boy up.

Sean collected our menus and as he passed me, nudged my in the arm "Dude do you have a ring or something you want me to put in a champagne glass?" He said it loud enough that if I had really intended to propose, Pam would have heard. I shook my head vehemently.

Pam, looking curious, leaned over to me. "What was that all about?" she asked.

"Uh," I started. I never thought, even jokingly, that I would have to bring up marriage on the first date. "I may have mentioned that I was proposing to you to get our seats faster."

"What?" Pam looked stunned.

"Do you know who he reminds me of?" Jan asked interrupting our conversation. "The waiter, I mean."

"Zac Efron?" Michael said effortlessly, "He kind of has that cute, kind quality that I know Zac Efron has."

Pam and I exchanged humored looks. Jan scrunched her nose, "No, my old assistant, Hunter."

"Gah," Michael said disgusted. "I hated that guy."

"You just don't like him because he did a better job than you." Jan said. I had to wonder if she had come to dinner a little drunk, because she had no hesitance in what she said at all. "He was really good," she stated somewhat suggestively. "It's too bad he had to start a band."

"Yeah, but he sucks at that," Michael commented.

"He has two albums out," Jan said defensively.

"Yeah, well I'm almost done with my screen play," Michael came back, a little louder. "And when that becomes a movie and makes a million dollars and stars Brad Pitt, then who will be doing better. A feature film is worth more than two albums. Go to any electronics store, they'll tell you."

"No, no," Jan argued. "That is not how that works. Besides, your stupid screenplay is never going to get sold."

"You are just jealous," Michael argued back.

"Oh, really, of what?" Jan challenged.

"Um, Jan," Pam said, interrupting the awkward stare down Michael and Jan were having. I could tell she was trying hard not to make the situation any worse than it was. "Maybe we should talk about something else. The festival seemed to do very well today."

"Oh yes," Jan answered distractedly. "You know what, let's not talk about the museum. Oh, that reminds me," her eyes grew wide and for a moment I was a little scared of what she might say or do. "Pam, I wanted to show you what I've been working on lately. When I'm not working on museum things." She dug through her purse, pulled out three very thick candles, and placed them on the table. "I have a new line of candles coming out. Serenity by Jan is my side business," She informed me when I gave her a confused look. Apparently, Pam looked just as shocked to hear this news. "And I wanted you to have first look."

"Alright," Pam said, a little hesitant. She picked the first one up and sniffed it. "Wow," she said with a false smile and quickly handed the candle to me.

I sniffed it, but only smelled the wax. "What is it?" I asked trying not to sound to offensive.

"It's fire." Jan responded, her eyes growing dark with pride.

"Ingenious," I replied with a little bit of sarcasm. I placed that one down and picked up the light yellow candle while Pam picked up the dark blue one.

"Oh, is this denim?" she asked carefully.

"Amazing isn't it," Jan said excitedly. "And yours is citrus, well…coconut and lemon."

I took a whiff and nearly chocked, it smelled like floor cleaner. I offered it to Pam, but she declined. Jan then pulled out a large white candle. And placed it on the table in the middle of the others.

"This is my newest one, snow," she said simply.

"I came up with that idea," Michael said proudly.

"You did not," Jan argued, taking out her lighter. "Well, to get the full effect, we have to light them,"

"Um, Jan, are you sure you want to do that?" I asked. The table was clothed and neither Michael nor Jan was being very careful with their arms.

"Oh, they'll be fine," Jan said leaning over to light them with her cigarette lighter. "Look, these candles are lit," she said, referring to the small tiny candles that were flickering inside a closed, ceramic decorative lantern. I didn't think that was the same thing but I was too afraid to argue with her. Once the candles were lit, the aroma quickly floated throughout the restaurant. The mixtures of smells did not blend well, making Pam and I gag a little. "Isn't that amazing," Jan said, brushing the air towards her so she could take a deep breath in.

"So, Jan, you decided to start your own company. I had no idea," Pam mentioned trying to be conversational.

"Yes, yes one day I just had this brilliant idea that I could make my own candles. Have scents that real people want. Not those lame flowery scents that people get from those horribly over-priced gift shops," Jan explained. "You know, if the two of you invest in my company, say a good ten thousand dollars, you have no idea how much it'll be helping us out. Plus, I'll throw in a few free candles."

"Ten thousand?" Pam gasped looking over at me in awe. The two of us combined probably didn't have ten thousand dollars.

"Yes, then maybe Jim could get us a good deal on ad space in the newspaper," Jan said lightly. "I mean, come on Pam, what's the point of sleeping with someone if you can't anything beneficial out of it." She let out a high laugh.

"Oh my," Pam responded, her jaw dropping a little.

I raised my eyebrows, shocked at the words coming out of Jan's mouth. I then had to wonder what she was getting from Michael then and why all of Pam's coworkers automatically assumed that we were not only sleeping together but also that she was getting something out of the deal. "Oh, it doesn't work like that," I said trying to play it off as a joke but I couldn't quite find the humor in the situation.

Thankfully, the waiter came with our drinks but when he went to open the bottle of champagne, Michael stood up so he could help.

"Let me do it," Michael insisted, grabbing at the bottle.

"No, it's my job," the boy said pulling back on the bottle in an attempt to wrestle it out of Michael's hands.

The two continued to struggled with the bottle until they both let go, causing the bottle to shatter on the table making a big crash. Liquid sprayed everywhere, but sense the bottle smashed right in front of me it drenched my entire body with champagne. I shot up when I felt the liquid seep through the fabric. Pam grabbed a few napkins to help absorb some of the moisture.

"What the hell?" I let out taking the napkins from Pam to clean up myself. She started to pick up the broken glass on the table.

"Look what you did," the waiter yelled.

"You should have let me pour it," Michael yelled back.

"That is a hundred dollar bottle of champagne," Jan yelled, standing up herself. "I demand another bottle on the house and a new waiter."

"I am going to go clean myself off," I announced, although no one but Pam was listening. I could hear Jan, Michael, and the waiter yelling all the way to bathroom. They were so loud, that most of the other guests were staring at the commotion.

Right before I walked into the bathroom, Krissy stopped me. "What happened? Oh my god, she said no," she said in a horrified voice.

I shook my head and entered the bathroom without answering her. I tried the best I could to get the alcohol out of my clothes but there weren't any paper towels, so I had to contort myself under the hand dryer to dry some of it off. After about five minutes, I figured it was pointless and until it dried naturally, I would have to look like I peed my pants.

My phone rang and I fished it out of my pocket to see that it was my boss calling. Great, I thought, just want I needed more work issues. "Hello?" I said into the phone trying hard not to sound like was distressed.

"Jim, great, I got a hold of you," Josh said in a chipper voice. "You remember that old golf pro I was telling you about this afternoon?"

I suddenly felt queasy, the last thing I needed was to have to go out and get some interview. "Yeah…" I responded slowly.

"Well, I think we have an address. I'm still trying to work out some of the details," he explained. "But I think we can get you set up for an interview. You're still free tonight, right?"

"Uh, yup," I said not sure of any other possible answer I could give that wouldn't cost me my job.

"Okay, well, keep your phone nearby," he informed me. "I'll let you know when we have some concrete answers."

He said goodbye and I let out a sigh as hung up and placed my phone back in my pocket. When I left, though, I was struck with an idea on how to use my job to get Pam and I out of the awkward Jan and Michael situation.

When I got back to the table things had calmed down and a few bus boys were picking up glass pieces from the floor. But I noticed someone new was sitting in my seat and next to that man was a tiny blonde woman that I recognized as one of the curators of Pam's museum.

"TUNA!" The voice was unmistakable. The goofy grinning Andy Bernard turned around and stood up to give me an uncomfortable hug. "I can't believe you are eating here too." I would have thought that after Pam and I had made him go crazy yesterday he wouldn't be that interested in seeing us again. But I supposed Andy's anger was short lived because his cheeriness seemed to be unquenchable. "I was just telling your lady friend here that it worked out for the best that it didn't work between us. I found my wonderful Angela here." Angela, who didn't look like she was having any fun, flinched at her name. "And now, Pam gets to now have Tuna every night." He laughed at his own bad joke.

Pam looked up at me, shrugging her shoulders helplessly.

"Andy, we should really be going," Angela said firmly.

"No, why don't you guys stay," Michael suggested.

"I think we will," Andy replied, grabbing two chairs from another table.

I saw this was my chance to put my plan in motion and make our exit. "Actually, that would be a good idea because actually, while I was in the bathroom my boss called," I explained. I smiled over at Pam who smiled at me back when she realized what I was doing. "He needs me to cover this hot new story so I really should go. Pam, why don't we take off?"

"We shouldn't keep them waiting," Pam said hurriedly, standing up from her chair and placing her napkin on the table.

"What's the big story," Michael asked curiously.

"Um…it's top secret, Michael," I lied hoping that they wouldn't need a further explanation.

"Well then Pam doesn't have to go, right?" Michael asked. "I mean she's not a reporter or anything. Why don't you go and Pam can stay with us?"

Pam gave me a horrified look. "Well, I'm her ride home," I quickly added. "So…"

"We can give Pam a ride home," Jan said.

I thought quickly, trying to figure out how I could still work it in my favor. If I could at least get out of there, then I could call Pam and get her out too claiming that I had some big emergency. "Ok, I'll see you guys later, thanks for dinner."

Pam, however, didn't understand and thought I was ditching her. "They've already cooked your meal, Jim," she said hurriedly. "If you don't stay, that means we'll have to take it to go," her voice turned serious as she stared me down. "Then, when I give it to you, it will be cold and believe me Jim, you will not like it if your dinner is cold." She stressed the last part and I got the hint. I took my place next to her grateful that Josh hadn't needed me right then because I didn't think I could handle having to actually choose between my job and my girlfriend.

Pam looked at me sadly as I took my seat and I wanted desperately to tell her that I would have never left her but unfortunately I couldn't get a chance to say anything because that would reveal my lie in front of the others.

"Man, what happened to your face?" Andy asked, drawing attention to the fact that I indeed still had a bruised eye. He poked at the bruise twice.

"Please stop," I said miserably, pushing his hand down.

Soon, the six of us were all squished around the table, none of us speaking as we waited for our food. The waiter informed us that because Andy and Angela had arrived all the food would wait until their orders would be done before they would bring them out. The waiter claimed it was restaurant policy but I believed he was holding out because of the champagne bottle incident.

After a time, when I didn't think it could get much worse, I heard a familiar voice call my name. "Jim?" I turned around hoping it really wasn't who I thought it was. Unfortunately, it was. "Jim what are you doing here?" Dwight came up beside me. "You can't afford to eat at a place like this," he informed me.

"Ah, well, then what are you doing here?" I shot back. "You make the same amount of money."

"I always eat here a Friday night, they have the most amazing roasted duck set in a…" his voice cut off when he examined the company I was in. "These are all Scranton Museum people," he observed.

"Good call," I gave him.

His eyes grew wide. "Is this for that big top story?" he came down close to my ear. "You know…the art thieves."

"Yes, Dwight," I gave him not feeling up to arguing. "We are talking about art thieves."

Michael spoke up, a bit confused. "There are art thieves around? Oh, Jim, was that your top secret story?"

Jan, who had been chugging champagne, responded in a somewhat slurred voice. "Oh, god, there aren't any art thieves around here Michael. Who would ever want to steal from our crappy museum?"

Dwight looked at me perplexed. "So there are no art thieves?" Before I could make some sort of response, a few waiters came out with our meals and began placing in front of us. "Ah, the pulled pork platter," Dwight observed. "Great choice, though I do believe it is poisoned because the French originally used a chemical found in rat poison to add flavor to the sauce."

"If it was poisoned, then why would they serve it?" Pam asked astounded as I was about Dwight's statement.

"Population control," Dwight responded.

"Yeah, cause that makes sense," I muttered.

Dwight looked as though he was going to go into some great explanation but his eye caught Angela's. Then something strange happened, something I had never seen Dwight do before. He smiled down at her. Pam looked over at me perplexed when she saw Angela return the smile. Apparently, Angela wasn't known for her pleasantness either. Dwight swiftly grabbed Angela's hand and gave it a tiny kiss.

"Why, hello beautiful lady," he said in a shockingly suave manner. "My name is Dwight K. Schrute."

Angela's pale face gained a little color. "I'm Angela Martin," she said in the sweetest voice I had ever heard her speak in. She continued to let Dwight hold her hand as they stared adoringly at each other.

"Uh, excuse me," Andy cut in. "Are you cutting in on my date?"

"Yes, if that's what you call yourself," Dwight replied.

"I do call myself that," Andy shot back.

"Well, then, we can settle this scientifically," Dwight gave. "I can provide her with shelter and food grown on my farm. I can make weapons and if I needed to, I could kill you with my bare hands. What can you do?"

Andy looked frustrated. "Well, I…I went to Cornell."

"Seriously?" Dwight said unimpressed. "That's all you've got."

Andy stood up from his chair and faced Dwight. "Oh, you haven't seen all I've got," he came back.

"Fine," Dwight said dismissively. "If Angela approves, we will fight for this date the old fashioned way. We will duel for her."

"I approve," Angela said seeming to love the attention she was getting.

"Oh, I really don't think this is a good idea," I pointed out, noticing the other restaurant guests nervously watching the two men circle each other.

"I decided to quit the museum!" Jan called out unexpectedly. Andy and Dwight stopped growling at each other to look at Jan. For the first time, I noticed she had tears streaming down her face.

"What?" Pam asked, unsure whether to believe her or not. "Jan, are you serious?"

"I decided I couldn't take it anymore," she wailed. "The board is going to review my contract this year and I know they wouldn't renew it."

Michael, who had been busy shoveling food in his mouth and therefore had pork and potato all down the front of him, stopped to looking over at her concerned. "I think you'll be alright," he tried to comfort her. He put down his fork and scooted closer to her, resting his hand on her back.

"I'm just so tired of it all," Jan cried. "And they're going to blame me for the museum being sued and they're going to blame me for the crappy festival and…and…" she couldn't get out her last words because she was sobbing too hard.

"It's okay, Jan," Michael said patting her back. "It's okay." As he spoke, he began to choke a little on the pork he was still chewing on. He coughed and few bits of food sprayed all over the table. A big chunk of pork hit Jan squarely on the cheek.

She looked up at him absolutely livid. "You are being incredibly disgusting," she accused.

"Oh, I'm begin disgusting," Michael shot back, his voice rising, causing a few people to turn around. It looked as though Michael had finally reach his breaking point. "You are the one being pathetic, trying to get Pam to invest in your stupid candle company. I told you that was never going to work."

"I am not being pathetic," Jan said firmly, standing up and throwing her napkin on the table, "I'm trying to make a little money because I may not have a job soon. And it's more than you can say with idiotic screenplay that never seems to get done."

"I have writer's block," Michael insisted standing up as well, "You know that, I've told you that a million times."

"And this morning, with the streaking," She continued, obviously letting out a lot of pent up frustration, "What was that? Do you think you were doing the community good running around in the nude? Get a clue, Michael, no one wants to see that."

"You did," Michael shot back. "You said you loved me after I tried to kill myself yesterday."

"Oh my god," Pam muttered.

"What were you trying to prove with that anyway? How desperate you can be?" Jan's voice was harsh. "If it wasn't for the fact that you tried to kill yourself, I might still have a job. The museum might not have to close because you offended some crazy woman. Why can't you ever function like a normal human being?"

"At least I don't need two bottles of wine before I go out to dinner because I can't function without being drunk," Michael shot back he was on the verge of tears.

"Why don't you go to hell, Michael!"

"You go to hell you little…"

"You better think about that statement long and hard." There was a scary look in Jan's eyes.

"That's what she said!" Michael screamed.

Jan finally snapped. She picked up one of her candles and threw it hard at Michael. It hit Michael in the chest and bounced back on to the table knocking over the glasses and finally hitting the other two candles. As soon as the other candles hit the alcohol drenched table flames shot up. I immediately backed away from the table, putting a protective hand in front of Pam as I did so.

"Look what you did!" Michael shouted. By now, the entire restaurant was watching the scene. "You set the table on fire!"

"I can stop that," Dwight said. He went over to the table near us and grabbed the tablecloth. There was a loud shattering sound as the glasses and the dishes clattered on to the table and floor as Dwight pulled the fabric from the table. He then tried to fan out the fire, but instead the fire only seemed to grow eventually catching the tablecloth Dwight was waving around on fire as well. Flames began to shoot off everywhere.

The restaurant began to go into mass hysteria. Smoke filled the place as all the guests began scrambling for the exits. The staff tried to keep people calm but it was no use, everyone was shouting and running around. Dwight with the help of Andy continued to put out the fire to no avail. Jan was still crying and Michael was still trying to yell at her. Thinking I had enough of this insanity, I grabbed Pam's hand and pulled her through the crowd to the exit. Just as we were headed into the lobby, the sprinkler system kicked on, drenching everyone in the vicinity.

Annoyed, hungry, and now wet, we made our way into the parking lot. As we ran to the car, I could hear sirens in the distance. It didn't surprise me one bit. I was about to unlock the car when I noticed Pam had stopped to turn around and look at the building, mesmerized as people and smoke that streamed out of it.

"I can't believe it," she said softly. In the distance we could see Jan and Michael immerge from the restaurant, still screaming at one another.

"I know, crazy, isn't it?"

She looked up at me and frowned. "You weren't really going to leave me, were you?"

"No," I said quickly. "I mean, if I had taken off, I would have definitely gotten you out as well. I would never leave you with that bunch of lunatics."

She looked relieved. "Come on, do you wanna go on a real first date now?" she asked.

"No," I said only half jokingly. "I'm vowing right now never to have another first date. Ever. But if you didn't think this one went that badly, we could skip to the second one."

"I'd like that," she said, smiling broadly before standing on her toes to give me a swift kiss on the cheek.

"Come on," I said grinning. "I know another French restaurant across town that hasn't been burned down yet." She giggled as I unlocked the car.

Every year afterwards, on our anniversary, Pam and I would remember that one night fondly and be proud of the fact that we shared the story of the best worst first date ever.


	21. Superman

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

She tilted her head and her eyebrows rose. She was attempting to look stern but she couldn't hide the smile twitching on her lips. "Yes, this is really what I want."

"Okay…" I teased as I turned into the parking lot of the Wendy's located only a few blocks from the French restaurant we had just fled. "I mean, I was going to treat you to some fine dining but if you insist."

"What I want more than anything," she gave, "are chicken fingers and a frosty. Believe me, right now that sounds better than any fine dining you can offer."

I chuckled as I pulled into an empty parking spot. I knew Pam was hungry enough that if there had been a hot dog vender on the corner, she would have made me stop there. I was pretty hungry myself and although teasing her was amusing, I couldn't argue the logic of going to the first restaurant we found. "So, chicken fingers and a frosty? Interesting combination," I observed.

"Yeah," she said in disbelief. "You dip the chicken in the frosty and…you've never tried it have you?"

"Uh, no," I grinned as I shut off the car. "I eat food like normal people…" Before I got much farther, my phone buzzed. Reluctantly I pulled it out of my pocket to see that my boss had sent me a text. The smile slipped from my face as I read that he had found the address to where the retired golfer was having his party that night and gave me instructions on how to get there so I could get the interview.

"What is it?" Pam asked, concern in her eyes.

"Nothing important," I said pushing the phone back into my pocket. For now, all I wanted was to enjoy my time with her. Probation or not, I was going to enjoy my dinner before contemplating how I was going to juggle the date and my job. I tried giving a comforting smile but she shot me a look that proved she wasn't convinced.

I ignored the look and exited the car; Pam was quick to follow. "Are you sure you don't want any French food?" I joked as I opened the Wendy's door for her.

She gave me a playful glare as she passed me but then tripped over the threshold. I immediately let go of the door, grabbing her arms to catch her. She turned back towards me, her cheeks crimosn. "I, uh, should probably tell you now, I'm sort of a…klutz." Her eyes shifted towards the ground as she said the last word.

"So?" I said with a shrug. I released my grip on her now that she was balanced but slowly ran my hands down her arms. "Gives me another reason to hold on to you." I rested my hands in hers and gave them a squeeze.

I grinned, loving that I had made her blush harder. She pulled away from me and entered the restaurant.

The restaurant was busy. A dozen or so ten-year olds, all in soccer uniforms, were running around while their chaperones, which there only seemed to be four of, tried to keep them in line. I could see another long wait ahead of us. "You still want to eat here?" I asked.

Pam shook her head and gave me a lop-sided smile. "I don't mind waiting now," she said simply. She turned her attention to the menu above the counter but her fingers gently brushed against my hand before they entwined in my own. I caressed the back of her hand with my thumb, feeling the warmth of her skin travel through me. Her palm was sweaty, but then again, so was mine.

She placed her head against my arm and I closed my eyes for a moment just enjoying her presence next to me. It didn't matter how crappy the day had been, or how badly the first date had gone, or even though I was hungry I would have to wait, I had her at my side and that was the most comforting feeling I had in a long time.

We eventually got our food and settled down at one of the tables. I slid into a booth and Pam sat in a chair across from me. I had barely unwrapped my cheeseburger when she tried to stifle a giggle.

"What?" I asked, immediately becoming self-aware and looking down on my shirt to see if I had dropped ketchup on it but it was clean.

She rocked back and forth on her chair, the metal squeaking beneath her. "It's uneven," she explained. "I, um, am not going to be able to sit here."

"We can move," I said about shift to the table next to us but Pam shook her head.

"I'll just sit next to you," she said with a flirty smile. She got up and slid next to me, purposely scooting close enough so that our bodies were touching. "You're just going to have to live with it." She proceeded to open her box of chicken fingers as if it were no big deal that I could feel every part of her body brush against me every time she moved.

"I'll live," I said with a big grin before taking a bite of my sandwich.

"So, I haven't been able to ask how your day's been?" Pam said as she dipped a chicken finger in the frosty like she said she would.

"Fine, I guess," I replied with a shrug. The evening was finally getting to a place where I could enjoy it and I didn't want to ruin it by telling her about the horrible day I had. Instead, I watched, amused, as she gobbled up the chicken without taking a breath.

"Mmmm…" she let out, seemingly enjoying the fast food. I let out a laugh and handed her a napkin so she could wipe off the ice cream that had made it to her cheek instead of her mouth. She only looked slightly embarrassed as she took it. "I'm sorry," she said as she shoved the rest of the chicken into her mouth. "I'm an unapologetic slob." She quickly grabbed another piece of meat. "And I'm very hungry."

"I don't care," I informed her, eating a few of my fries. "It's not like we were ever going to enjoy the meal at the French restaurant."

She stopped mid-bite to give me a guilty look. "Jim, I'm so sorry about that, never in a million years did I think…"

"Don't worry about it," I assured her. "Besides, it'll be one of those great stories we tell at cocktail parties."

She let out a relieved laugh. "I don't even know, Jim," she replied reflectively. I figured, between her boss quitting, the museum getting sued, and a few other things that she had told me about the night before, she had to be as worried about her job as I was mine. "I mean, I have never seen Jan lose it quite like that. Michael, of course, is always on his worst behavior, but usually Jan has a little more class." She let out a sigh. "I'm a little worried about what I'm going to face when we get back to the festival. I don't know, maybe we shouldn't go."

I understood and there was nothing I wanted more than to be alone with her the rest of the night but I got an inkling that she wouldn't have a good time unless she felt more secure about her job. "So, do you still want to go to the firework show? Whatever you want to do is fine with me."

She gave me a half smile. "I do kind of want to go still," she responded hesitantly. "I mean, if my crazy coworkers haven't scared you off completely."

"Uh, I work with Dwight," I reminded her. "I think I can handle crazy coworkers."

"Oh my god, and that whole thing with Angela going on a date with Andy!" Pam exclaimed, her eyes lightening up.

"I know!" I responded a bit in disbelief. "And that Dwight seemed interested in her. And the fact that he and Andy wanted to fight over her."

Pam started laughing. "And Angela looked like she was enjoying it. I don't think I've ever seen that woman look like she enjoyed anything. That was so…bizarre."

I shook my head. "For that matter, I didn't think Dwight was capable of being interested in anyone. On second thought, though, maybe in some twisted level they might actually…no never mind." Just the thought of Dwight being with someone made me shudder.

"Could you imagine if Andy and Dwight actually started dueling?" Pam said looking like she was trying to visualize it.

"Yeah, Dwight would do something crazy like, use a steak knife to combat himself," I said laughing. "And with Andy's anger issue, I think he'd fight back. He'd probably start throwing things and of course, Dwight would be trying to fight back with the steak knife. And, you know, pretty soon the whole restaurant would be taking sides and we have an all out massive brawl. So, in the long run, maybe it's better Jan tried to burn down the restaurant with her horrid smelling candles."

Pam couldn't stop laughing as I continued to exaggerate how the duel would have went down had Andy and Dwight been able to proceed, waving my arms around and doing my best impressions of both men. Her laughter was encouraging and her smile was infectious, so much so that all I wanted was for her to keep grinning like that.

"Oh my god," she said finally, letting out a long breath. "Yeah, this is one night I'm not going to forget for a long time."

"Me neither," I said, my voice more serious then I had intended it to be. The humor left as she realized the gravity of the statement and we both stared deeply into each other's eyes thinking about how this night, and every night this week, had been about so much more than art festivals, newspaper articles, and insane coworkers. After a moment, she gave a slight smile before turning away.

"Thank you for not ditching me," she said finally, nervously picking up another piece of chicken and twirling it in her fingers. "I mean, you could have easily decided that tonight was enough, I mean my life is always this crazy but, um…"

"I'm not ever going to ditch you," I said, surprised at the ease in which I could say those words. She smiled kindly, as if the matter had been settled, then proceeded to dip the chicken in the ice cream. "So, are you going to let me try that?" I asked.

She looked at the tender, then at the empty box and playfully shook her head. "Get your own chicken," she said taking a deliberate bite.

"Actually, technically, I bought that chicken, so it is mine," I corrected, reaching out to try to grab the piece. She held it out so I couldn't get to it. I again swiped at it but she giggled and held it away. "Fine," I said not really giving in. She again dipped the chicken in the ice cream again and tauntingly took another bite.

To retaliate, I began tickling her side. She immediately began to crack up and held a hand to her mouth to stop the chicken from shooting out. "Jim, stop," she laughed.

I did so for a moment. "Ok, then I get a bite."

"Nope," she shook her head and dipped it the last portion in the cup so it was covered in ice cream then stuck the whole thing in her mouth.

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be, huh?" I said daringly before I began to tickle her again.

Pam tried to squirm away, but was laughing so hard that she didn't get very far. She lightly pushed on my chest. "Jim!" she managed to get out through her laughter. The minute her mouth opened, though, bits of chicken spewed out and I stopped my hands when a piece of chicken hit me in the cheek. Pam doubled over in laughter. "I'm so sorry," she squealed, nearly in tears she was laughing so hard.

I pretended to be upset as I wiped the chicken off my face. "Thank you, that was lovely," I replied.

"You did say you wanted chicken," she joked.

"Yeah, well, I just didn't think I'd…" I stopped, noticing she had gotten a small piece on her skirt. "You really are a slob," I teased, picking up the piece of chicken from the fabric and placing it on a napkin. There was a tiny bit of ice cream still on her skirt and without thinking about it, I place my hand on her thigh and slowly ran my thumb over the small bit of ice cream, letting it absorb into my skin.

Pam stopped laughing, immediately aware that my hand remained on her thigh. I hesitated, wondering if I had pushed it too far but she didn't recoil. She didn't even look alarmed. While keeping my eyes intently fixed on hers, I gave her thigh a tiny squeeze. Her head slowly bobbed up and down, a slight nod to let me know that I hadn't gone too far and I felt a wave of relief, as well a many other feelings, rush over me.

"Your eye is looking better," she said unexpectedly. She held her hand up to my face, her fingers hovering ever so slightly over the bruise. "The swelling had gone down since this morning and it's now more green then purple." I wasn't sure why she was telling me any of this until she cupped my face and drew me in for a gentle kiss. I could taste the ice cream on her lips and I kissed her back wanting to taste her again. The kiss continued, long and lingering. She deepened the kiss, her mouth opening under mine, her tongue quickly sweeping over my own, causing me to elicit a small moan.

"Ah-hem." The first time the man cleared his throat we were both so wrapped up in the kiss that neither of us registered that we were being watched. The sound came again but we were still lost in the moment. "Excuse me," came a weak voice finally. "You can't do that here." Pam and I split apart, the realization that we were indeed in a public place came flooding forward.

"We're sorry," Pam said her face flushed as much as mine.

"Yeah, sorry," I mumbled. I looked up to see a sad looking middle-aged man with receding red hair frown at us. The gold plated nametag read TOBY and underneath Manager.

"This is a public establishment," the guy continued in a soft whine. "There are kids here. You have to respect public places and kids and…other adults…don't want to see those things."

I would have felt guiltier about our immodesty if he hadn't been blatantly staring at Pam's breasts as he mumbled at us. Pam noticed this as well and protectively crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"You know what, we're pretty much done here anyway," I assured him, starting to collect the wrappers and placing them on the tray.

"Alright," the guy mumbled, still staring at Pam. "Just keep yourselves in check next time." He lingered a little too long, almost to the point where I wanted to say something, before he tore his eyes away and headed back to the main counter.

Pam and I immediately exchanged looks before bursting out laughing. "Wow," I commented.

"Yeah," Pam replied shaking her head. She gave a little shudder. "Just when I thought the night couldn't get any weirder."

"Yeah, really."

"I, um," her face turned a deep red as she started to speak again. "I've never…I've never made out with anyone in public before."

I gave a little shrug, amused. "Me neither," I replied.

"I, uh, I kinda, uh, liked it," she stuttered turning away.

I grinned, loving the fact that I was able to bring her out of her shell. Granted, I had never been the most forward person myself, but being with her brought out a more confident side that I didn't realize I had. "Why don't we get out of here and find a more private place," I suggested.

"Yeah, let's do that," she replied quickly, grinning herself. I was shocked for a moment at how easily she agreed. We both quickly got up, collected our things and threw out our trash. I grabbed on to her hand as we headed out. "Who's to say you can't have a nice date for under fifteen dollars," she said as she opened the first of two glass doors.

"Certainly better spent then the sixty I wasted on Le Fromage," I replied opening the second door for her. It was completely dark now but there was a soft breeze that pushed along the warm evening air.

Pam stopped. "Wait, I thought Jan had covered the tab on that," she exclaimed.

"No," I responded with a laugh. "That was how much I had to bribe the hostess to get us seated."

"Oh, I but I thought you had told her you were going to propose. Well, I can see why she didn't buy it. You definitely don't look like a guy who is going to propose to his girlfriend," she teased.

"Oh really?" I shot back. Just for the fun of it, I clasped one of her hands in both of my own and dropped to one knee. "Pamela Beesly. Even though I don't even know your middle name, I have a question that I need to ask you now." Her eyes widened, her jaw dropped slightly and for a split second I think she actually thought I was going to ask her to marry me. An odd sensation flowed over me and I knew that although it wouldn't actually happen tonight, this felt like the right thing to do. I gave her a smirk and continued on. "Will you promise me that for as long as we both shall live, that we'll never, ever have to dinner with your boss again?"

Her shock wore away and she playfully rolled her eyes at me. "I can't believe you," she said smiling and shaking her head. She lifted her hand out of mine and headed towards the car.

"What?" I asked playing dumb as I got up.

She didn't turn around but I could hear her laugh as she kept walking.

* * *

"Looks like we're going to have to wait a little bit," I explained. Pam was leaning against my car, arms folded across her chest, shivering a little. The school bus that had just arrived to pick up the kid's soccer team from Wendy's was parked next to the curb and blocked my car from getting out of the parking lot. "The kids are getting in now, so it shouldn't be too long."

"I'm not in any hurry," Pam responded with a gentle smile. She tugged on my shirt a little, pulling me closer to her. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, held her close, and looked deeply into her eyes. I could have stayed there all night with her in my arms if it had been necessary. "We still have an hour or so before the firework show, we can take our time."

I sensed the suggestiveness in her voice and didn't hesitate to press my lips to hers. "Plenty…of…time…" I said between slow and deliberate kisses. Pam pulled her arms out from between us and wrapped them around my neck to pull me close for a deeper kiss. I felt somewhat like a teenager again as we continued to sloppily make out against my car. "Mmmmm," I moaned, breaking our kiss we I could catch my breath. "You taste like vanilla frosty."

Pam let out a tiny giggle. "You, um, sort of have onion breath."

"What?" I asked my eyes growing wide in embarrassment. "Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

Pam turned her head towards the ground and although it was too dark to actually see it, I could tell she was blushing. "I didn't want to stop," she said quietly.

I grinned, man I was falling hard for this woman. "I've got some breath mints in the car," I said, letting go of her and reaching into my pocket for my keys. I began to panic when I couldn't find them. "Oh, no," I said suddenly, checking both pockets again hoping that I just didn't feel them but they were not there.

Pam looked at me concerned. "What's wrong?"

"I can't find my keys," I answered beginning to get worried. I looked around the area were in, hoping they had just fallen out.

"Let's go back in," Pam suggested. "They're probably under the table or something."

Her reassurance didn't stop the nagging feeling at the pit of my stomach. "No, I think I…" I peered into my car and sure enough, there were my keys, still in the ignition. I pulled on the handle but I knew before I did it that the car would be locked. "Damn it! The keys are in the car."

"Alright," Pam responded, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "So, we call Triple A. No big deal."

I admired her optimism but I couldn't help but feel incredibly frustrated at the situation. It was if nothing could go right for me today. "Yeah, ok, we can do that," I replied in a huff.

I did call Triple AAA but to add to my luck they were very busy. Apparently, quite a few people had decided to lock their keys in their car that night and it would be another hour before they were able to come out. So, Pam and I headed back inside the restaurant and found a booth facing the window so we could watch for the guys from Triple A.

"I can't believe this," I said with a heavy sigh as we became settled in again. "I mean, just when I think the evening was getting a little better I leave my keys in my car."

"Plenty of people leave their keys in their car," Pam assured me, resting her head on my shoulder. She took my hand in her own. "So, we have to wait a little longer. At least we get to spend the time together."

"Yeah," I let out, amazed at how easily she could make me smile.

"Excuse me," we both turned our heads to see the manager standing behind the booth. He must have been sweeping because he held a broom in his hand. He still had a frown but I couldn't imagine what we could have possibly done to annoy him now. "I couldn't help but overhearing that you locked your keys in your car. I think I can help you get it unlocked."

His eyes once again traveled down to Pam's breasts, which made me feel uncomfortable and given my mood, I was close to yelling at him about it. Pam, however, didn't seem to notice this time. "Really," she said a little excited. "You can do that?"

"Yeah," he answered slowly. "I have been locked out of my house plenty of times. My ex wife…wasn't…very nice…" He seemed so pathetic that it took away from the shady demeanor he had been putting off. "Anyway, if you want I can get your door open."

"Yeah, that'd be great," Pam gave before I had a chance to input. She looked at me wide eyed and hopeful so I didn't protest.

A few minutes later, the three of us were out side and Toby, the manager, was on the ground, picking the lock with a pin. It made me a little nervous at how easily the guy seemed to go about picking the lock, especially when he didn't seem like the type of guy to be good at anything. But in only ten minutes, he managed to get the door unlocked and I easily retrieved my keys from the ignition.

"Thank you," I gave, holding out my hand for him to shake in act of diplomacy. I supposed it was just a kind gesture but I made a mental note not to return to that Wendy's.

"Yes thank you," Pam repeated with a gentle smile. I gave her a lot of credit for being more trustful than me.

"No problem," he said with a slightly unnerving smile. "If there's anything else I can do, please let me know." He put his hand out and patted Pam's shoulder. My jaw dropped a little as the pat became a caress. He stopped his hand but he seemed of unsure of what to do and his hand remained on her shoulder. She gave him a strange look and pulled away, stepping closer to me. "Well, have a good night," he stuttered, staring at the ground as he walked away.

Pam looked up at me and gave me a shudder. "Yeah, why don't we leave," I recommended.

Pam hesitated. "I just…I have to go to the bathroom."

"You don't want to go back in there, do you," I teased. She shook her head vehemently. I placed an arm around her, gently rubbing her shoulder where the manager had touched her, as if to wipe away the creepiness. "Tell you what, we'll both go, then we're definitely getting out of here."

She nodded slowly. "Okay…"

* * *

"Pam?"

Silence.

"Pam, are you ok? It's been, like, ten minutes."

More silence.

"Pam, I will come in there to make sure you're alright. I don't care if-"

The door to the women's restroom creaked open and Pam immerged wearing a pair of worn, clear, plastic framed glasses and a frown. "My contact popped out," she started to explain, a bit of a whimper in her voice. "Cause we were up all night, I never took them out and it dried out. Then it fell on the bathroom floor which is…so gross and I don't have my contact solution and now I have to wear these old back up frames that don't really work and I look so stupid…"

"I think you look cute," I interjected putting my arm around her shoulders to comfort her.

She let out a little sigh, relaxing slightly. "This isn't either of our night's is it?" she replied into my shirt.

"No, I don't think it is," I said with a little laugh as I gently ran my hand through her hair. "Do you want me to take you home so you can get your contacts?"

"Let's just go see the fireworks," Pam replied, looking up at me with a smile.

"Alright," I said. We walked back out to the car hand in hand, this time no bus blocking our way and my keys safely in my pocket. But as we climbed into the car, the high-pitched chime of my phone went off once again, signifying that I had a new text message. I flipped my phone open to read it as Pam watchrd curiously while she buckled her seat belt. It was from my boss, again, only this time he said he wanted to know whether or not I had the interview by the end of the night. I threw my head against the headrest and let out a sigh, trying to figure out how I could still be on my date and manage to get this interview.

"What is it?" Pam asked concerned. I clearly wasn't hiding any frustrations well enough.

"Nothing," I said forcing a smile.

She gave me an odd look but then leaned back in her chair and I figured that would be the end of it. But as I put my hand on the gearshift, she grabbed it. "It's not nothing," she said quietly.

"What?" I asked taken aback.

She looked nervous, as if she wasn't sure how to say what she wanted to. "You keep looking at your phone. I know you think I don't notice but every time you do it, you have this, this, tense look on your face. Come on, Jim." She squeezed my hand. "What is it?"

I looked away from her and began to play with the key chain that dangled from the ignition. There was a part of me that didn't want her to know how much I had screwed up at work. "It's just something about work," I mumbled. "No big deal, really."

"Jim…" She tilted her head and I couldn't help but think that she looked at me with a twinge of disappointment. "You know you can talk to me right?"

"Yeah, I know," I said softly. "It's just that…it's embarrassing to discuss, I think, on a first date."

"Embarrassing?" she said her eyes widening. She let out a laugh. "I don't know if you noticed but I'm wearing glasses that went out of style a good twenty years ago. And you just sat through the most painful dinner with my boss and Michael and… Do you have any idea how embarrassed I have felt this evening?"

"Right," I replied. "I know, it's been awkward, just this… It makes me feel like I'm…inadequate for you or something."

"I don't think there's anything you can tell me that would make me think you're inadequate," she responded seriously.

I could feel my cheeks grow warm and I turned away not wanting her to see how easily she affected me. Her confidence in me, though, was amazing and I was worried that somehow I would let her down. I said nothing in response and I could feel her worried stare.

"Look, Jim, here's the thing," I could sense a small quiver in her voice as she spoke. "My marriage failed for, well, a lot of reasons really, but the biggest one was that there was a severe lack of communication." She paused before continuing. "I don't know if I can express how much I care for you and last night, when we talked for hours, that was amazing. But if you can't let me in to the hard stuff, and believe me, Jim, I want to be here for you, then I'm not sure if I can…I don't know if I can do this…"

I turned back to her and noticed how upset she had gotten. I licked my lips before I spoke; I owed her, if nothing else, the truth. A sensation flowed over me, one that told me if I didn't open up to her now, this thing would be over before it got a chance to start. "My boss put me on probation," I finally said.

Pam's eyes grew wide. "What? Why?"

"I sort of missed a story…or two…"

"Okay, so you messed up a little, but probation?" A flicker of anger crossed her face and for some reason it made me happy. "That seems a little harsh."

"Actually, he was being nice," I informed her. "He could have fired me."

"Well that's stupid," she said automatically. It made me smile. "I'm sorry, though, Jim. I definitely know how stressful work can be. I just…can't believe they won't cut you a break. So, what was with the phone calls? Does your boss need to talk to you or something?"

"No, actually, he wants me to go this an interview with this retired golf pro," I explained. "By the end of the night or I could possibly lose my job."

"Oh," Pam replied. "Well, let's go do it."

Her insistence startled me. "Pam, are you sure? This isn't exactly how I expected our date…"

"So, we're not normal," Pam cut in quickly. "What about this date has gone to anyone's expectations anyway? I mean, besides, we have some time to kill before the fireworks. We get this guy to commit to an interview and we're out. That way your job is fine and our date isn't ruined…well, any more ruined after all the other stuff that has happened tonight. And the biggest point is that we still get to spend time together, right?"

She had absolutely stunned me. "Wow! Has anyone ever told you how amazing you are?" It was her turn to blush. I caressed her cheek before pulling her in for a kiss. "You have no idea how lucky I feel to have found you, Beesly."

Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. "Me too."

* * *

Phil McGuire, retired Scranton Golf Pro, was having his 75th birthday party at the Calloway Hotel, only a block from the art festival. By the time we arrived, the party had already started. Josh had given me no other information than the man was at the party, so how I was going to get an interview would be entirely on me.

The party was going in one of the ballrooms and that was by private invitation only, which made it difficult to get in. It didn't help that while Pam and I had decent clothes on, we were still far underdressed in comparison to the formal ware the guests had on. On top of that, I hadn't had a shower or shave in over twenty-four hours. We both went to the bathroom to clean up as much as we could.

"Oh wait," Pam cried as we met outside the public restrooms. "Your eye." I had completely forgotten about it. Pam dug through her purse and pulled out a compact case. "It's cover up," she explained. "This way you can look some what professional." She gave me a wink as she opened the case and began to apply. Beyond a play I did back in high school, I had never worn make up, but was grateful for Pam's idea. By the time she was finished and I caught a glance of myself in the mirror, any traces of the discolored eye were gone.

There wasn't much security, just a lonely looking college-aged boy standing by the door, but overhearing a conversation as we approached, we found that no one, not even press, was allowed with an official invitation.

"I'm not sure what we should do," I admitted.

Pam gave me a devilish little smile. "I think I have an idea, follow me."

"Sorry, I can't let you in without ID," the young man said as Pam and I tried to walk in the door.

"Hi, we're good friends of Mr. McGuire's daughter," she stated, cozying up to the guy, making him feel a little uncomfortable. I would have felt a tad jealous if I hadn't pulled the same thing with the hostess and if she hadn't looked so nervous doing it. I suspected she had never tried doing this in her life and it made me a little weak in the knees to see her attempt such a thing for me. "You can go get her if you like, but there's really no need. My husband and I are good people and really just want to celebrate such a wonderful athlete. So, if you would please let us through, you'd be doing a great favor."

"Um," The guy stuttered, his face turning flush at the attention of Pam, who was now running a hand down his arm. "Let me go find Lucy," he choked out.

"We'll be right here," Pam assured him as he took off. She then grabbed my arm and pulled me into the crowd of people in the ballroom.

"Nice," I said completely impressed. "How'd you know he has a daughter?"

"I guessed," Pam admitted her eyes wide, astounded at what she had just pulled off. "Looks like we have a little luck on our side."

"So, we're married now?" I asked amused.

"Yeah, and at the rate tomorrow we'll have two point five kids and a dog," she rolled her eyes. "Which one is McGuire?"

I pointed at the small, grey-haired man with a mustache in one of the corners of the room. "I'll go over there and see what I can do."

"Good luck," she said.

McGuire was chatting with a bunch of men, none of whom I recognized. I squeezed my way into the group, listening to them talk about the sport of golf. After a minute or so McGuire noticed I was there.

"You boy, I don't know you," he said, his voice slurred from all the alcohol. He pointed directly at me and the group parted to reveal my presence.

"Jim Halpert," I said confidently. "I'm a big, big fan of yours. I've followed your career since you started in 1964 and am in awe of what an amazing athletic you are. I'm the head of my college golf league and I…"

"You're a reporter aren't you?" he cut me off, seeming more amused than angry.

"Yup," I said simply, hoping that he wouldn't immediately call security.

While the men around him looked uncomfortable, McGuire began to laugh. Press may not have been admitted but he seemed to enjoy that I was there. "Which is it, TV 10?" He asked, patting my on the back.

"Um, Scranton Times, actually," I said honestly.

"Ah, the newspaper," He said reflectively, "No one ever reads those damn things any more do they. I suppose you want an interview, which is why you bothered to sneak in here."

"Actually, sir, you really are a hero of mine," there was a grain of truth to it, while golf wasn't my favorite game, he was a legend with in it and meeting any sports legend was well worth my time. "It's really just an honor to meet you. Forget an interview, I just thought I could get a game of golf out of you."

He chuckled. "You play, huh?"

"Just a little," I lied. I actually couldn't play at all.

"Hmmm…" He was thinking things through, "No cameras, huh?"

I lifted my hands up to show that I held nothing, "I don't even have pencil and paper. But seriously though, if I could get an interview, I'd greatly appreciate it. See, I think we should support local celebrities so that we can show what good people Scranton can produce. It'd be inspiring to others to see that not only is there a man proud to come from Scranton, but that he can do great things."

He rubbed his chin. "Alright, I may be a little soft tonight, but it's been a good night. How early do you tee up?"

"As early as you like," I said.

"Be at the hotel at nine, I like to sleep in these days," Mr. McGuire said with a smile. "Tell ya what, you score with in five, I'll give you the interview."

"Thanks Mr. McGuire," I said, automatically shaking his hand.

"Alright, enjoy the party if you'd like," Mr. McGuire said, waving his arm out at the crowd.

I nodded grateful and took off to find Pam. It took me a minute to find her because she was on the move, weaving through the partygoers, trying to avoid being caught by the young man at the door, who apparently had found out that we weren't friends of Lucy McGuire. When she saw me, her eyes lit up.

"Did you get it?" She asked excitedly.

I grinned proudly, "Yup."

"Oh, great," she said, throwing her arms around me in a big congratulatory hug.

I was filled with such elation that I didn't care if we were in the middle of a fancy crowd about to be kicked out by some kid who stunk at his job. I didn't care that even though I got the interview I'd still have to worry about the probation. I didn't care that this evening was less than caliber when it came to first dates or any dates. Screw it, I thought. All I wanted to do was kiss the hell out of the wonderful and amazing woman in my arms. So I did.


	22. Daydream Believer

AN: Due to changing the plotline, Holly's role has been changed. Edits have been made to correct the problem.

* * *

The first thing I did, once Pam and I got back to the car, was call my boss to let him know that I got the interview for tomorrow morning. He was definitely happy about that and while I knew I wouldn't be immediately off probation, it felt nice to not feel so insecure about work again. As we drove back to the festival, I couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of energy run through me. I could do anything.

So, I drove back to the festival, loving the fact that I could end the day with Pam at my side. We hadn't talked about what would happen after the firework show, if I would take her home or if I could manage to ask her to my place, which I really wanted to do, but the end of the night seemed far away. I only wanted to stay lost in the happy bubble we had created, where time seemed to stand still.

Of course, returning to the festival meant a return to reality. As we walked up to the gates leading into the park, hand in hand because I couldn't seem to go that long without feeling her skin against mine, we noticed that something odd was going on. A police car, its lights flashing blues and reds, was parked right at the entrance of the park. Pam and I exchanged curious glances and headed towards the crowd gathered at the park entrance. We saw two policemen escorting a male in handcuffs, all we could see was the dark hair on the back of his head, into the police car.

Oscar, Phyllis and Kelly were at the front of the crowd that had gathered around the police car and Pam immediately made her way to them. "What happened?" Pam asked as the police car slowly began to drive away.

Oscar spoke first. "Ryan was arrested." He didn't seem to have any sympathy but Pam's jaw dropped open. "You know those fireworks he got for the festival? Well, he stole those out of a delivery truck last night along with some electronic equipment that he was selling on eBay." Oscar shook his head.

"Oh my god," Pam replied in shock, dropping my hand to cover her mouth. I somehow didn't feel sorry for the guy. "Did they take the fireworks away?" was Pam's response and I had to laugh that she was more concerned about the festival then Ryan.

"They did," Phyllis informed her. "But don't worry, everything is continuing on smoothly. Bob Vance had some fireworks left over from a party he had a while back. They're getting them ready right now. Everything should be just fine."

Pam let out a little sigh of relief.

"I cannot believe how much of a moron Ryan is," Kelly said, her eyes fixed on where the police car once was. "Oh wait, yes I can. Any jerk that dumps me gets what he deserves. I hope he rots in jail. I cannot wait to visit him in jail, especially with my new boyfriend…"

"You have a new boyfriend?" Pam interjected, suspicious of Kelly's words.

"Oh yes," Kelly replied. "Darryl Philbin. Jim knows him, right?" She pointed to me and for a second it didn't register because I had a hard time believing Darryl would even go on a date with Kelly. I nodded anyway. "Yeah, he's so big and manly. And Ryan is such a little runt. I hope he picks up some dirty disease in prison that makes his penis fall off."

My jaw dropped then but Pam, who was much more used to Kelly than I was, waved the statement aside. "Um, has Jan come back at all?" Pam asked Phyllis and Oscar. Before either could speak, Pam got her answer when Jan walked up, Michael only a few paces behind her. I have to say, I was slightly surprised to see her there and not locked up, probably in the same place where Ryan was currently going.

"I'm not staying," she announced grandly. "I'm just getting my stuff and I am leaving." She paused to take a look around but she seemed to have no remorse. "And I don't really care," she grumbled as she walked past us.

"Jan, I…" Michael started going after her.

"Don't follow me!" Jan snapped.

"I just bailed you out of jail!" Michael screamed after her.

"What?" Oscar asked looking at Pam with amazement. "What the hell happened after you guys left?"

"Do you have all night?" Pam asked shaking her head.

"Jan quit," Michael wailed. I wasn't sure if he was crying because he was actually upset or because he needed attention. "And then she dumped me after I gave her all of my money."

"Oh Michael," Phyllis groaned.

"Jan quit?" Oscar responded, his eyes wide.

Pam and I both nodded.

Just then, a blonde woman approached us. "Hi, I'm sorry to bother you but was that just Jan Levinson that passed by? My name is Holly Flax, I'm one of SIA's board members and I need to speak with her."

"Oh, hi," Pam replied. "I don't think we've met, I'm Pam Beesly, PR for SIA," she held out her hand and Holly shook it. "I don't believe Jan is… approachable right now. Is there anything I can help you with?"

Holly gave Pam a lop-sided smile. "Oh, I don't know if it's appropriate to discuss," she said hesitantly.

"I promise you," Oscar stated. "Nothing around here is too taboo to discuss. We'll all hear about it eventually."

"Oh, um, okay," Holly said. "You are all museum employees then?" Everyone, including myself, nodded. I half expected someone to call me out but no one said a word. "Well, okay then, due to the recent termination of Ms. Levinson, the museum board has asked me to come out here and discuss the terms of her severance."

"Termination?" Kelly interjected. "You mean she didn't quit?"

"Un, no," Holly said. She was a little nervous to be disclosing the information. "After the events of this afternoon, where she said some very bad things at the hearing, she was let go. Apparently, if I heard correctly, she also was arrested for arson this afternoon as well?"

I let out a chuckle at that but Pam gave me a glare so I stopped.

Michael let out a wail. "And she broke my heart again," he sobbed. "I just can't take it anymore."

Holly looked at him with genuine concern and sympathy. She came over to him and placed a comforting arm around his shoulders. "I'm so sorry to hear that…"

"Michael," he told her as he buried his head in her arm. His sobbing became louder. "I think it's really over this time."

"Oh, I know, Michael," Holly stated, patting his back. "I just got dumped too about a week ago. It just sucks so much doesn't it?"

Michael lifted his head to meet Holly's eye line and then something strange happened. It was almost as if I could tell they had an immediate connection. The odd thing was, despite Michael's over dramatization of everything, Holly didn't seem too off put by it. And when Michael noticed the kindness she was presenting him, the sadness seemed to melt away and a smile formed upon his lips.

"Being dumped sucks," Michael agreed. "So, are you staying for the firework show?"

"You know, I was only planning on staying long enough to talk with Jan…"

"Oh come on," Michael insisted. "Best firework show in Pennsylvania is tonight and you don't want to miss that."

Holly gave him a broad grin. "Yeah, I think I can manage to stick around for the best fireworks in all of Pennsylvania."

I remained transfixed by how Michael was apparently charming Holly without really trying. But a moment later, Pam grabbed onto my hand and I knew by the look in her eyes that it time to return to that happy bubble I was so fond of.

She didn't talk about Jan or Michael or Holly arriving as we found a couple of lawn chairs and set them up a good distance behind the rest of the crowd waiting for fireworks so we could be alone. The temperature had dropped some and neither of us had a blanket to use. I offered to retrieve my coat from the car but Pam shook her head, wrapping herself around my arm and snuggling close. My heart began to beat faster as she clasped one of her hands in my own. It felt perfect. Everything about her sitting there cuddled up close to me felt perfect and I couldn't remember the last time I could say my life felt perfect.

"Crazy night, huh," I let out, looking up at the darkened sky, waiting for the show to start. I could hear laughter and faint music in the distance but the festival felt so far away now.

"Yeah," she replied. She rested her head against my arm and I could feel her warmth spread over me. "I can't believe Jan got fired. And went insane and tried to burn a restaurant down."

"I can't believe I got on probation or that we crashed a party," I added with a laugh.

"And Ryan got arrested…" Her voice trailed off as she contemplated her next thought. "Um, Jim, I was going to ask you this earlier but, uh, I kind of got side tracked by everything tonight, but, uh, this morning, after Ryan hit on me," she stopped to let out a shudder. "Uh, I called you my boyfriend and we hadn't talked about that yet but you weren't weirded out by that, right? I mean, I know we just met but it's okay for me to consider you my boyfriend?" She looked up at me with uncertain eyes but all I could think about was how adorable she looked in those glasses and that she had nothing to worry about.

"Absolutely," I replied, not hesitating to lean down and brush my lips against hers for added confirmation. I could have told her that I had been considering her my girlfriend since we kissed last night and if it had been possible, I would have wanted her as my girlfriend that first day I met her. But I refrained from elaborating and stared deeply into her eyes, letting my own do the speaking for me.

She said nothing in response, only smiled at me with that warm grin I enjoyed so much. She didn't hesitate when she kissed me back, a tender, sweet kiss. One that quickly grew more passionate as we sunk into it. I ran my hand through her hair, pulling her as close as possible because I could not get enough of her. It still amazed me that I had not only found her but that she wanted to be with me as well. And that I could sit there with her and kiss her and be lost in such a blissful moment with her. I had never felt that sense of connection with anyone before and it wasn't until that moment that I realized-

*POP*

The first of the firecrackers went off, green and gold sparkles shimmering down over us. We pulled apart, panting slightly, but still grinning happily at each other as the next firecracker went off. Pam squeezed my hand tightly and rested her head against my shoulder. I watched her for a moment, taking her in, as she got comfortable and looked up to observe the fireworks. I finally glanced at the sky with a sense of wonderment, not at the fantastic display, but at how in such a short time I had come to care so deeply for the woman beside me. I knew I was-

-falling in love-

Love

I thought that I had known what love was. I had thought I had fallen in love before but none of my prior relationships had felt like this. I had never felt this strongly for anyone and that is how I knew it was love. Real love. I suddenly became very nervous because not only did the prospect of falling in love scare me as much as it did thrill me, I wanted share how I felt with her as well.

I felt a surge of exhilaration flow through me as I opened my mouth, ready to speak. "Pam," I managed, my voice barely a whisper. She didn't stir and I remained staring at fireworks illuminating the sky above. My heart was racing and I began to sweat but I knew, just knew, that if I told her she would feel the same way. "Pam," I started again, this time more audible. "I know we've only known each other for a short time but I've never met… You are such an amazing person and I…" I paused because nothing seemed to sound right in my head. "Pam, I think I'm falling…"

My voice trailed off when I looked down to find her fast asleep against my shoulder. Her breathing was steady and gentle and she had a small smile across her lips. I grinned as I realized just how tired she must have been. Neither of us had slept the previous night and it had been long couple of days. I let out a heavy breath and leaned in close enough that I could smell the sweet scent of her apple shampoo.

"I think I'm falling in love with you," I whispered so quietly that I could barely hear myself. I smiled lightly before giving her a soft kiss on the top of her head. Not a bad day, I thought to myself as I nuzzled my head against hers, feeling lucky enough just to have her next to me. My own fatigue finally caught up with me and I closed my eyes, not really aware that the big firework finale had just lit up the sky. I just wanted to remain in this perfect moment forever.

Not a bad day at all.


	23. Ordinary Day

**A/N:** Hey there! Yes, this is an actual update for One Week, crazy huh. While I've been uploading chapters a few months ago, it's actually been about a year since I've actaully written fanfiction, so hopefully this isn't too rusty.

I really, really want to thank those of you who've been reading and reviewing. I very much appreciate the kind words, it's incredibly encouraging to any author to have feedback. I always enjoy hearing what people have to say. I hope you enjoy this one and hopefully I'll be able to update on a more regular basis now that life isn't as crazy as it was over the past year.

One small note, I will be trying to go through and edit, especially the beginning, which has a ton of small mistakes, so if you get a bunch of notices regarding this story, my apologizes in advance.

Edit: Sorry, didn't realize I used Holly in the chapter before. Changes have been made.

Disclaimer: don't own anything.

* * *

Day Five (Pam's POV)

I woke to the soft sound of the rain pattering on the window. I curled up tighter in my blankets, not really wanting to leave the warm cocoon I had created but just as I began to drift to sleep again my alarm sounded and I regrettably hit the off button instead of snooze. I listened to the rain, thinking it was unfortunate that I actually had to get up for work when I would rather spend the day snuggled up in bed.

I noticed the red light on my cell phone was blinking, which indicated I had a message. I reached over and grabbed it, wondering why anyone would bother to send me a text this early in the morning and my first thought was that it was hopefully someone from the museum letting me know that they were shutting down the festival for the day due to rain. It wasn't work.

_Hey, golf game was rained out, pick you up for breakfast?_

I couldn't help but grin as a sense of warmth flowed through me when I read the text over again. It was Jim. My boyfriend. My boyfriend Jim. I liked the sound of that. I was still getting used to the idea of a having a boyfriend again but every time I thought of Jim, I couldn't help but get this jolt of excited energy and was grateful that it seemed as though my love life was getting a second chance.

_Absolutely!_ I texted back thinking that every morning should start with a visit from Jim.

With a sense of renewed energy, I hopped out of bed and began to get ready, starting with a super quick shower then dressing in some casual nice clothes. Since it was raining, I wouldn't have been surprised if the festival was shut down for at least the morning and I didn't feel I need to look my best for only a half day. I put my hair up in a ponytail thinking it would be more practical than leaving it down.

As I was brushing my teeth, the scale in the corner of my bathroom caught my eye and for the fun of it, because I was feeling lighter than air these past few days, I hoped on wondering if the myth about losing weight when starting a new relationship was true. _336._The red numbers glowed. I let out a laugh and tried again. _336_. Not even close to my usual weight, obviously the scale was broken.

When I finished getting ready, the cell was blinking again, alerting me of another message. Jim was on his way over. I couldn't stop grinning as I replied, letting him know I was all set to go when he got there. I left out how anxious I was to see him. He already knew how much of a complete dork I was, no need to add to the ammunition.

My thoughts drifted back to the previous night. As far as first dates go, it had definitely been unique. On paper, it wouldn't have been ideal, but I couldn't have come up with a more perfect outcome. So, my boss went a little crazy and tried to burn down a French restaurant. So, I was hit on by a creepy Wendy's manager and lost my contacts. So, Jim had to go to an assignment. None of that really matter because at the end of the evening, I was curled up next to Jim watching the most beautiful fireworks display I had ever seen.

Jim later told me I had slept through most of it but there was something in that moment, when I rested my head against his shoulder and I felt safe and warm, that felt perfect. I had realized then that it didn't get any better than that. The universe was finally making sense and I knew I had found where I needed to be.

Having some time to kill before Jim arrived, I went to my desk, which had become cluttered. Since the festival had started, I hadn't been keeping up with tidiness. I moved my mail, mostly neglected bills that would have to wait until I had more time, to the floor so that I could reach my laptop. I got online for the first time in ages and found that I had a ton of unread emails to get to.

Most of them were junk mail and a few were from old acquaintances, some of whom I gave a short replies but there were only two in my inbox that stood out. The first was from the head of the museum board.

_Dear SIA Employees,_

_As some of you may be aware, last night marked the abrupt end to Ms. Levinson's tenure as director of the museum. I ask you please keep this information confidential as we (the board) are trying to figure out how to find a solution to the problem. We will be having a mandatory employee meeting tomorrow morning at 9am in Scranton Central Park to discuss the future of the museum and of the festival._

_If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to contact me._

_Thank you,_

_SIA Museum Board  
_

So, Jan was really gone, I thought as I reread the message. I couldn't imagine the museum without her, as she had been the director since I had started but there was a nagging thought that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that Jan was done with the museum. SIA had been floundering for years and maybe whomever they chose to replace her might have a chance to revamp the ailing museum. Though, there was always the chance it could get worse but I felt it would do no good to get pessimistic about the situation.

The only thing that truly worried me was the state of the festival. If the rain kept up, we wouldn't get much revenue from today but if they felt the festival couldn't run without a museum director the board could decide to shut it down completely and we would lose our weekend gains, which would be unfortunate since the last few days of the festival were always the most attended.

I tried to push work from my mind as I read the most recent email in my inbox, one from the Pratt School of Design in New York. With everything that had been going on, I had completely forgotten that I had submitted an application and part of my portfolio a month earlier. I nervously opened the email.

_Ms. Beesly,_

_This letter is to inform you that we have received your application information and have been accepted into the Pratt Art Institute. Unfortunately, due to the high number of applicants we get every year and due to the lateness of your application, we are unable to place you into our Fall program, therefore we have officially placed you on the waiting list for our Fall 20- semester. We will contact you immediately if a position opens up. However, you are eligible to attend our Spring 20- semester. A packet with more information will be sent via mail sometime later this week._

_Thank you,_

_Admissions, Pratt School of Design_

I sat back in my chair slightly in shock. When I applied, I thought it was a long shot and did so because I felt there was no harm in trying, not because I felt I had a chance at getting in. Sure, I was on the waiting list but come this spring, I would have a whole, new opportunity awaiting me. I felt incredibly giddy, my life was moving forward, and for the first time in so long, I felt great to be living it.

Before I could get a chance to let it really sink in, my phone rang. It was my sister Penny. "Hey," I said brightly.

"Hey," she replied cautiously, probably not sure how I was able to sound that chipper so early in the morning.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" I teased. My sister was known for not getting up until the afternoon.

"I was called into work," she lamented. "Which is why I'm calling you. I'm not going to make it out there today, though by the look of the rain, there probably isn't much to come out to."

"Yeah, I don't know yet," I replied. The rain was still pounding against the windows and I could hear rumbles of thunder. "If it keeps up, we won't be open for most of the day."

"That's really a bummer," Penny said. "And it sucks that I have to miss it, I always loved going when we were younger. I think it's so cool that you put it together this year."

"Thanks," I said. "Are mom and dad still planning to come out?"

Penny sighed into the phone. "I think they are. Pam, they're arguing again, and it's really bad this time. Two nights ago, mom complained to me for an hour over the phone about dad. I'm really worried about them."

"Do you know what's going on?" I asked concerned. "I mean, they never used to argue this much when we were kids. Now, it seems like every time I talk to one of them, there's some kind of fight going on."

"Yeah," Penny agreed. "Every little thing dad does bugs mom and dads ticked off every time mom tries to confront him on something. This doesn't look good."

There was a silence as we both reflected on our parents' issues and how no matter how hard either of us had tried, nothing managed to help.

Penny broke the silence. "So, how are you anyway?" she asked. "It's been, like, a week since I've talked to you."

"I'm doing pretty well," I said happily. "I just found out that I was put on the waiting list for Pratt."

"Oh my god, Pam that's amazing," Penny exclaimed. "Congrats!"

"I know, it's awesome, isn't it?" I responded. "I'm actually on the waiting list for the fall semester but I can actually attend classes starting in the spring."

"Wow," Penny said. "So, does this mean you're going then?"

I paused a moment. "I don't know yet," I answered truthfully.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Penny asked.

"I mean, I'm glad I got in," I replied. "But now that I have, there's so much to think about. I mean, would I still have my job when I come back? Would I move to New York? How am I going to pay for it all?" A ton of questions flooded my mind and one very large one lingered near the front. And what about Jim?

"I don't think there's anything wrong with moving to New York," Penny advised. "Besides, you've never cared that much about your job. Something else going on you're not telling me about? Oh my god, you and Roy didn't get back together again did you?"

I laughed. "No, we aren't back together," I explained. "In fact, he and I have finally had closure. Actually," I hesitated a little knowing how my sister reacted to these things. "I met a guy."

"What?" she asked stunned.

"And we're, kind of, dating."

There was silence on the other end for a split second before Penny started a bombardment of questions. "What? Who? When did you meet a guy you actually like? And why didn't you call me? My life is so completely boring and, well, so is yours, so it's your duty to call me when something big like this happens. You actually met a guy? Can I meet him? What's he like?"

I laughed as she continued her questioning but before I could answer anything, there was a knock at the door. "Sorry, Penny, but he's here now, I've got to let you go."

"He's at your apartment?" Penny asked. "Like, he stayed there or just getting there? You better give me a call back and fill me in."

"I promise to get back to you later, okay?" I said, heading towards the door.

"Call me as soon as you have a chance," Penny begged. "You can't drop this bomb and take off."

"Bye, Penny," I said, amused that I was letting it dangle.

"Details, Pam!" she squealed. "Don't for get all the-"

I hung up as I opened the door.

It occurred to me right then, the second the door was open and I found Jim standing in my doorway, that for the entire time I had known him, he had always been dressed in his work clothes. But that morning, he was dressed casually, a simple pair of jeans, a gray Eagles T-Shirt, a pair of black Converse All-Stars and a red Phillies hat. He was clean-shaven and the bruise around his eye was beginning to fade. From the moment, I met him, Jim had been attractive in a cute and sweet way but seeing him in his regular clothes, it dawned on me. My new boyfriend was hot. My knees went a little weak and my heart began to beat a little faster as the realization settled in just how good-looking he was. I blushed at the fact that just a change of clothes would cause such a reaction. Jim took it as an invitation to enter.

"Hi," he gave with a mischievous smirk.

"Hey," I said, not able to hide a dopey smile.

He threw the black umbrella he had in his hand to the floor, scooped me in his arms and began to give me quick butterfly kisses. I swung my arms around his neck so I could pull him in for a proper kiss and reveled in the fact that when our lips touched, he tasted of coffee and mint. Lost in the kiss, I forgot that I had any kind of responsibility outside of being with Jim and when we finally did pull apart, I regretted the fact that I did have a job to go to.

"Thanks for picking me up," I whispered, still holding him close.

"My pleasure," he responded, going in for another slow kiss.

I pulled away slight, knowing that if I didn't stop then, there was no way I was going to work at all, let alone getting there on time.

"So, guess what," I said as I slipped away and began to collect my things so we could head out.

"What's that?" he asked.

I was a little hesitant about telling him about Pratt, especially since the relationship was new, but it just wasn't something I could hold in. "I applied to the Pratt Institute and I got in," I said slowly.

His eyes grew wide and he beamed proudly. "No way," he exclaimed. "Pam, that's amazing. When do you start?"

I felt a bit of relief. "I'm still on the waiting list actually. But I can start classes in the spring."

"Wow," he gave as if it were a huge accomplishment. "That's great."

"Really?" I asked. "I mean, committing to a long distance relationship this early is okay?"

He tilted his head. "New York isn't that far away. Spring semester is months from now. And besides, this is a huge opportunity for you and I wouldn't want you to pass that up."

My heart fluttered. "Oh, Jim," I gave him a huge hug.

We headed out to Jim's car and when we got out side, huddled close beneath the umbrella he had brought. If anything, the storm was getting worse. The wind had picked up and even with the help of the umbrella by the time we made it into Jim's car, we were both drenched.

"So, I can see why your golf match was cancelled," I said as I closed the car door and buckled my seat belt.

"Yeah, but thankfully Mr. McGuire is still giving the interview," Jim said as he started the engine. "At least I didn't lose that. The best part, though, is that I have the rest of the day off."

"I wish I could have the day off," I said as I watched Jim pull out into traffic. "But even if the festival is rained out today, I still have to go in. Jan made quite the mess in her departure and I may be in meetings all day with the museum board trying to figure it all out."

"Well, that's a shame," he said. "But at least Jan had a spectacular exit. I mean, if you're gonna go out big, burn everything in sight as you do it."

I laughed. "I could use a day off though. I need to catch up on bills, go grocery shopping, get a new scale. Yeah, I need a new scale, my current one tells me I weigh 336 pounds."

Jim shook his head. "You really should lay off the Frosties," he teased, poking me in the stomach.

I playfully swatted his arm. "Actually, I'm not so sure how productive a day off would be anyway."

"Why's that," he asked.

"Because all I really want to do is spend time with you," I replied.

He looked a little surprised at my forwardness and blushed. "You know, I'm tempted just to kidnap you then."

"If it weren't for the fact that I'd probably get fired, I'd take you up on that," I only half joked.

"Hey, do you mind a quick stop?" He asked. "I have to get some gas." I nodded and he pulled into the gas station on the corner. "I have a favor to ask," he said when we parked. He pulled out his wallet and credit card. "Do you mind filling the tank while I run inside for a moment?"

"Sure," I said taking the card.

"Thanks," he said, giving me a quick kiss on the forehead.

We both got out and I began to unscrew the gas tank cap as he went inside. When I placed the card in the little machine it beeped at me, letting me know the card wasn't accepted. I tried again, making sure that I had put the card in the right way but it still wasn't accepted. I wasn't sure what was wrong but I opened the card door and pulled out my own purse. I figured, instead of bugging Jim about his card, I could just pay for it myself; I did owe him for all the rides he had been giving me.

As I waited for the gas to fill, I bounced in place, trying to keep myself warm. The thin coat I had on didn't stop the wind from piercing through and the roof above the station didn't help block out the rain. When I felt enough had been spent, I went to remove the pump but it was stuck. I couldn't get it unstuck until the tank was full and I had spent nearly fifteen dollars more then I intended to.

Jim exited the store just as I was placing the pump back on its holder. He had a small paper bag with him and when he got back to the car, threw it into the backseat.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Something I need for later," he said. The brushed-off question made me curious but I let it go and gave him back his card.

"I think we shouldn't come back to this station." I announced. He looked at me intrigued as I continued to speak. "Your card didn't work in the machine. I mean, I tried to get it work but it didn't take it for some reason. So, I paid for the gas, which was no big deal. I mean, you've been giving me all these rides and I figured the least I could do was pay for some game. But then, the handle on the pump was stuck and it kept pumping and I couldn't get it unstuck so you have a full tank but I'm low on money. So, you're gonna have to pay for breakfast-"

I stopped when I realized he was grinning ear to ear amused and fascinated by my chatter. But there was something more in his eyes, a look I couldn't quite read.

"What?" I asked slowly.

"I, uh," his face dropped and he looked down at the ground.

"Jim?"

He looked back up at me with an intensity I wasn't suspecting. "I love you."

"Oh my god," I replied, his words had taken me completely off guard. He loved me. It took a moment for the thought to settle in. He really loved me. The warm, tingling sensation I was beginning to grow fond of swept over me again and I could feel myself glow. He looked at me nervously and I realized I hadn't given a proper reply. I responded the only way possible. "I love you, too."

He let out a breath of relief and we both laughed as he pulled me into an embrace. It was probably funny to anyone watching, these two crazy people declaring their love for each other in the most unromantic setting of a gas station but I didn't care if anyone was watching. Nothing else mattered at all, as I kissed the man I loved in the rain.


	24. Bad Day

AN: Okay, have to mention a major edit. I've changed the roles of David Wallace and Holly Flax due to plot purposes. The chapters it effects, LoveFool and Daydream Believer have been changed to reflect these changes.

Thanks so much to cariness and star jelly for your wonderful reviews! I very much appreciate the feed back and hope to hear from more of you. Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy this one! :)

* * *

Jim parked as close as he could to the park entrance so that I wouldn't have as far to walk. The storm raged on and I knew this was going to be a nasty day to get through. The wind blew violently through the trees, large branches whipping around, one of them dangerously close to a tent. I let out a sigh.

"Are you sure you can't just kidnap me?" I asked giving him a hopeful look.

His eyebrows rose. "Alright, let's go," he replied seriously enough for me to consider skipping out on the festival all together.

"No, I can't," I groaned hating the fact that I had become a responsible adult.

Jim shrugged. "It was worth a shot. So, I shouldn't be at this interview too long, maybe an hour. I'll come by after that?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "We probably won't be open if it's still raining like this but you're welcome to steal me from my boring meetings."

He rubbed my back affectionately. "Will do."

I opened the car door. As I was about to exit, a spray of rain hit my leg and it dawned on me. I didn't have an umbrella. I turned back to Jim wide-eyed at the thought that I'd have to become drenched on my walk into the park. Jim was already two steps ahead of me and handed me his black umbrella with a grin.

"Thank you," I said grateful of his thoughtfulness.

He pulled me in for a quick kiss. "I'll see you in a little while, Beesly."

Just then, I got a quick flash of what the future may be like, stealing short, sweet kisses from Jim before going off to work everyday. It was a warm thought, comforting, a sense of affection and companionship that I never had with Roy the entire time we were married. And it was weird, too, that in such a short time, all of this felt like the most natural thing to do.

I grinned at him, keeping my eyes fixated on his as I made my way out, not minding getting wet so that I could drink enough of him in before we were apart again. I knew it would be only a few hours or so but it felt like there was a small part of me missing when he wasn't around. I opened the umbrella and headed into the park, taking a quick look behind me, noticing Jim was still waiting in the car. A sense of giddiness swarmed over me knowing that he'd be watching until I was safely in the tent.

We were all convening in the food tent, the only one big enough to hold all the employees. When I arrived, nearly everyone that was involved with the museum staff, not just the festival staff, was pushed into the tent, making it seem a lot smaller than it actually was. I was late getting in and the board director, David Wallace, was already at the podium speaking. All of the seats were taken, so I snuck behind the back row towards one of the corners.

"Well, Ms. Beesly," Wallace said, stopping his speech. "How nice it is that you can finally join us."

"Oh, I was, uh, just," I began, becoming flustered when all the heads in the room turned towards me. Somehow, I didn't think wanting to spend more time with my boyfriend was a sufficient answer, so I stuttered an apology, hoping it wasn't a big deal.

"As I was saying," Wallace continued. "We shouldn't focus on the fact that we are now without a director. We need to continue to do the best we can with what we have got as the board members and I search for a person to take over Ms. Levinson's job."

"Why was she fired?" someone in the middle shouted.

Wallace looked uncomfortable. "The reasons of termination will remain confidential for now."

As Wallace went on to explain the process of how they would go about selecting their next director, I felt an elbow nudge my arm.

"Sure do know how to make an entrance, don't ya?" Came an unfamiliar voice. Standing beside me was a man, probably college-aged, dark hair, thicker frame, and casual clothing. I hadn't ever seen him before.

"I'm sorry what?" I asked confused.

"You should have seen yourself try to sneak in," the young man teased, doing an impression of me trying to hide behind the chairs. "You really aren't that conspicuous. It's rather entertaining."

I let out an amused laugh. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Oh, Alex," he said, holding out his hand for me to shake. "David Wallace's assistant."

"Pam Beesly," I said shaking it. "Public Relations. I'm so glad I could entertain you."

"Believe me, I could use some good entertainment," Alex joked.

I laughed. "So, Wallace's assistant? What happened to Grace?"

"Won the lotto," he replied with a straight face. "Yup, took the first flight out to some island in the south pacific. She sends a post card every once in a while."

"Really, that's crazy," I said not sure if I believed him or not.

"Yeah," Alex continued. "But I'm only temporary, I-" His voice rose above the whisper we were trying to maintain and an older woman sitting in the row next to us turned her head and put a finger to her lips to remind us to keep quiet. As soon the woman's back was turned, Alex mimicked her gesture, which made me giggle.

"So, did I miss anything?" I asked, keeping my voice low so the woman wouldn't be able to hear it.

Alex shook his head. "The board members were late and it took nearly twenty minutes to get everyone to quiet down. Wallace only started talking a few minutes ago."

"Good," I responded, turning my attention back to the front of the tent. According to Wallace, it seemed as though they already had a few people in mind to take Jan's place. I wondered how quickly they would be able to get someone new in and how it would effect the last few days of the festival. But Wallace concluded that the rest of the activities, with the exception of anything this morning canceled out due to the rain, would go on as planned. Wallace said the board would be around to help supervise the festival but let us know that we would mostly be on our own. I squirmed a little at that thought. While I didn't have any doubts about my own abilities, seeing how shaky the festival had seemed with Jan there, I wondered how crazy it could get without anyone watching over it.

Wallace turned the podium over to Holly Flax to discuss funding. "Good morning everyone," she said giving a timid smile. Michael, who had been sitting in the front row, stood up and began clapping very loudly. Holly looked embarrassed as every one else in the tent glared at Michael. "Michael, could you please sit down," she asked him. I was slightly shocked when he did what he told and I noticed he continued to beam at her.

Something happened between them last night, I thought to myself. It was great that Michael was finding someone else to latch on to besides Jan. I wanted to express my thoughts to someone and momentarily considered telling Alex because he stood right there but I didn't because I didn't think he'd understand. I wished Jim were there so that I could talk to him. It wouldn't be the only time that morning I wished that.

"Before I get into finances," Holly continued, "due to an incident last night, I need to make a short announcement. It is not ethical or even legal to sell any materials that have not been authorized by our committee while at the festival. That is why we have the booths set up. We especially discourage selling artwork, even if it is your own, or by the artist's permission and partially for the museum's benefit until the festival is over so that all of our exhibits stay in tact. It is also not allowed, under any circumstances, to sell artwork that is not your own and has not been approved by the artist."

I chuckled to myself and wondered if more had went on last night than I was aware. I noticed that Ryan wasn't around and speculated that may be illegal selling of artwork had been listed on his charges. There was a murmur around the room after her statement but Holly let it go at that.

"Now moving on to finances," she continued. "I'm happy to say that we've raised-"

Before she could continue, there was a large boom of thunder, followed by a loud cracking sound, which resulted in an ear-splitting crash. Everyone in the room froze.

"Oh my god," I muttered.

Five minutes later we had all made our way outside to find that a large branch from one of the trees had snapped and fallen on one of the tents, causing it to collapse.

"We have to get that branch off the tent," I exclaimed, grateful that it was one of the supply tents and not one with art in it. I went to pull at the branch but when I did the last remaining pole came crashing down.

"Hey, careful," it was Alex who pulled me away. "Don't want to hurt yourself."

"Thanks," I replied.

David Wallace stepped forward. "I think we can move it if we all work together," he said motioning for some of the men to come over.

They positioned themselves so that a few would pull on the end of the branch while the others helped it slide off the tent. After the guys had gotten the branch off and away from the tent, the rest of us moved in so that we could attempt to put the tent back together

"I knew we shouldn't have gone with such tacky tents," I heard Angela comment.

"Hey, I picked out those tents," Phyllis responded.

"I know, which is why they're tacky," Angela retorted. Phyllis gave her a glare.

"Hey, why don't the two of you stop arguing and help," I shot at the both of them. Angela shot me a nasty look and Phyllis frowned but both of them began to help me untangle one of the poles.

A little while later, my phone rang. If it had been anyone else but Jim, I would have not answered it, knowing that I had work to get to, but excited by the fact that he might be done with his interview, I answered.

"Hey," I said happily.

"Hey," his voice was static-y and when he began to speak, I wasn't able to understand what he was saying.

"Can you talk louder?" I asked. "I'm having a hard time hearing your."

I heard the words "interview" and "done" but they were followed by "called in" and "story".

The rain had died down into a drizzle but the wind was still howling and every once in a while there was still a rumble of thunder. Everyone was shouting at everyone else while they tried to put the tent back up. And on top of that, my cell phone reception was bad. All of this made it near impossible to hear Jim.

"Jim hold on," I said trying to move away from the commotion.

"Get it up, get it up," I heard a voice yell, drowning out Jim's voice.

"That's what she said!" I heard Michael scream.

"What is going on?" For a moment, Jim's voice came in clearly.

"It has been insane this morning," I told him.

"Is this a bad time?" he asked, his voice breaking up.

"Yeah, can I call you back in a little bit?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'll talk to you later, then," he said sounding disappointed.

"Later," I said regretfully, closing my phone. I had a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that somehow Jim's work would interfere with his day off. The selfish part of me wished that all news would stop for the day so I could have Jim to myself but the unselfish part knew he had to be on his best behavior due to his probation. With a sigh, I went back to helping Angela and Phyllis get one of the poles standing again.

"David!" I didn't think the morning could get worse, but it was about to as Jan came storming up the path. "David Wallace!" she screamed.

Wallace came to the forefront of the crowd, all eyes on the half-crazed woman and the chairman of the board. I can't imagine what Jan had gone through last night but none of it must have been good considering she was still wearing the same clothes she had on the day before.

"Jan," Wallace confronted her calmly. "What are you doing here?"

"I want my job back," she declared.

Wallace was put in an awkward position and we all stood their nervously waiting to see what happened. "I'm sorry, Jan," Wallace continued. "But your place at the museum-"

"I am the best damn director this museum has ever seen," she yelled. "And so I had a little…episode yesterday. People are allowed to make mistakes."

Wallace, who clearly didn't like being yelled at, began to get angry. I've met David Wallace a few times but he didn't strike me at the type to get angry that often. "We should have let you go years ago," he shot back. "But I've been kind enough to let you have second and third chances. Your behavior has been less then unprofessional for years. You caused the museum to be sued. And to top it off, from what I can tell you have inappropriate relations with two of your assistants."

Upon hearing that Michael pushed through the crowd. I had never seen him so upset. "I knew you fooled around with Hunter!" he accused. "I knew it." Jan stood there, looking annoyed at the entire situation but didn't defend herself and even if we didn't know about the first one, we all knew about Jan's relationship with Michael. "And to think, I loved you," he cried, being very melodramatic. "To think, I almost killed myself for you. I know you were just using me for my sperm so I could have your babies. No babies for you now."

"Oh god, Michael stop," Jan finally snapped, much like she did the previous night. "Do you really think I needed you for anything ever? You are the reason I'm crazy. You are the reason I lost my job. You are the reason that I am so depressed that I can't figure out what I'm doing. You-"

"Stop!" Holly came up to an almost in tears Michael. "Stop," she said again, softer, putting an arm around Michael. Michael may have had his issues but it was nice to see someone finally stick up for him, especially since Jan had completely lost it. "He does not deserve this," she told Jan firmly. "Are you alright Michael?" Michael wailed but nodded and buried her head in Holly's shoulder.

Jan began to speak again but Wallace stopped her before she got out a full word. "Jan, I'm going to ask you to leave now and if you don't I will get security to escort you out."

She glared at Wallace. "Fine. Screw you all," she screamed, flipping us off as she left the park. We all stood there stunned for a moment.

"Come on, everyone," Wallace advised. "Let's get this tent up and then get back to our meeting so that we can, hopefully, get this festival going again."

Everyone began to slowly resume putting the fallen tent back up with the exception of Holly who was consoling a still upset Michael. I took the moment to sneak away to call Jim.

"Hey, do you have a moment?" I asked when he finally answered the phone.

"Uh, I have about a minute," he answered.

"Well, you won't believe what happened this morning," I explained. "First, you know how it's been storming, well the wind broke this branch off this tree and it came crashing down on one of the tents."

"No way."

"Yeah, I know," I continued. "And it was a big mess, so instead of having our meeting we've been having to put this tent back up. We're lucky that it wasn't one of the art tents, just the tent that had all of our stuff in it but still. And then, when I went to move the branch, by myself, it nearly slid into me and Alex had to pull me away."

"Who's Alex?" Jim cut in.

"David Wallace's assistant," I answered.

"The author?"

"No, David Wallace is the chairman of the museum board," I corrected. "Never mind that, so then Jan comes back and-"

"Hey, Pam," Jim cut in again. "I'm sorry, I've got to go."

"You've got to go?" I asked. "I thought your interview was done?"

"It is," he replied. "I'm with my boss right now. Can I call you back in a little bit?"

"Yeah, yeah," I said, trying not to let my frustration show. "Bye."

"Bye."

Feeling as though I shouldn't dwell on the fact that Jim may or may not be showing up today due to his job, I rejoined everyone at the tent. The last pole was being erected and there was a general sense of satisfaction that we had accomplished at least one thing that day. Alex saw me from across the crowd and made his way through to talk with me.

"Hey, where did you run off to?" he asked.

"Oh," I said. "I just had to make a phone call."

He didn't seem to be too interested in why. "So, yeah, Jan, seems like she finally lost it," he commented.

I gave him a small smile. "You think today was bad, you should have seen her last night when she tried to burn down La Fromage."

Alex's eyes grew wide. "That fancy French restaurant? She was responsible for that? I live out in Carbondale and I heard about that."

"I know!" I cried. "I can't believe this festival," I said finally feeling the aggravation that had been building all morning. "This whole thing has been a complete disaster. And I tried, I really did try to make it the best I could but everything just seems to be getting worse no matter what I do."

"I don't think it's been so bad," Alex said, rubbing my arm a little to comfort me. "I mean, I've been here a few times over the past couple of days and everything seems to be going well to me."

"Really?" I asked.

"Really," he responded. "I've been having fun and haven't noticed too much. Haven't had to mention anything to David either."

I relaxed a little. "Well that's good," I admitted. "Maybe I'm just too close to it. I have been dealing with Jan's insanity close hand for days now. And it doesn't help that this morning has been a disaster and I haven't been able to talk with Jim about it and-"

"Who's Jim?" Alex asked.

"Oh, Jim's my-" I stopped mid-sentence when I saw something unbelievable.

"Oh! My! God!" Apparently, I wasn't the only one seeing Ryan approach the rest of us sporting a very smug look and blond hair. Kelly jolted straight towards him. "Aren't you supposed to be in prison?"

I groaned as I watched the confrontation.

"Yes, they arrested me," Ryan explained. "No, I didn't go to jail because they had no charges. They couldn't prove anything so they let me go."

"So, what did you do last night? I tried to call you," Kelly argued.

"You tried to call me while you thought I was in jail," Ryan asked annoyed. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"You should listen to your messages," Kelly informed him. "I just called to taunt you and tell you how much of a loser your are."

"Why do you even care?" Ryan asked. "I thought you were dating someone else."

"I am dating someone else," Kelly replied with a bit of an attitude. "And don't think that you'll ever get a date with me again. I don't date losers who go to jail."

Ryan looked at her smugly. "Oh if I wanted you, I could have you."

Kelly was about to blow up when I interjected. "Alright, you two, stop. Ryan, so you're actually back then?" I asked wanting to make sure that was clear.

He nodded. "Yup, can't get rid of me so easily."

"Dude," Alex, who had been silent this whole time, said. "What's with the hair?"

"Oh, you like it?" Ryan said trying to sound cool. "I did it this morning, thought I could start the new day fresh and what better way to reinvent yourself then to start with your hair."

Thankfully, my phone rang and I mumbled that I had to take it so that I wouldn't have to endure the bizarre conversation any longer. But truthfully, when I saw it was Jim calling, the entire festival could have been crashing down and I still would have run off to take the call.

"Hey, that was quick," I answered the phone cheerfully.

"Yeah," he replied. His voice was distant and that worried me.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Uh," he started slowly. "Toronto's playing Philly," explained.

A knot began to grow in my stomach. "And your boss wants you to cover the game."

"Yeah," he said.

"Alright, so you have to go to Philadelphia for the evening," I said, trying hard not to show my disappointment. "That's not too bad, you can always stop by before you head out."

There was a pause before he spoke again. "Toronto's playing Philly, in Toronto."

"What?"

"There's some kind of awards thing where they're honoring old players from all around the league," he said.

"So, your boss wants you to go to Canada," I said making sure I was hearing him correctly.

"Yes."

I felt miserable. And selfish. I really wanted Jim with me. "How long will you be gone?"

"The weekend," he gave.

A couple of days felt like a long time. "So, when do you have to leave?"

"In an about an hour," he answered. He didn't sound any happier about the situation then I did. "But look at it this way, it's only a few nights and when I get back we'll spend the evening together. Just you and me, we'll have a nice night in and we'll take it easy. Watch a movie or something."

"Yeah, that sounds great," I said choking up a little. I was growing so accustom to having Jim around that the idea of him not being around for a while, not being able to see him, physically hurt.

"Hey, it's just one weekend," he said trying to sound positive.

"Just one weekend," I repeated.

Alex came then. "Hey, Pam, just want to let you know that the meeting is starting up again."

I sighed. "I guess I have to go," I told him.

Jim was quiet again for a moment. "Yeah," he breathed. "I'll call you before I take off, alright?"

"Alright," I said.

"Bye, Pam," he said hesitantly.

"Bye, Jim."

"Are you alright?" Alex asked looking concerned as I hung up the phone.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said somewhat dismissive of him as I started back towards the meeting. I realized he was just trying to be nice but the prospect of not seeing Jim for a while affected my attitude.

We walked to the tent in silence. The meeting hadn't started yet, everyone still stood around chatting away with everyone else. Alex gave me a half smile, a gesture letting me know things would be fine before he went up to the front to talk with David Wallace. I stayed in the back, a little too close to where Kelly and Ryan were having another one of their infamous arguments.

"Can you guys please stop for two seconds?" I pleaded.

They both stared blankly at me for a moment. "Oh my god, Pam, are you alright?" Kelly asked. "You look horrible this morning."

"Thanks Kelly," I responded, not in the mood to put up a fight.

"What's wrong?" Kelly prodded. "Are you upset because we shut down the festival even though you've spent, like, your whole life planning it? Are you mad about Jan? Jan's totally crazy and you should, like, not even worry about that. Whoever they get will be way better and-"

"No, Kelly," I interjected.

Kelly kept going before I had a chance to explain anything. "Oh, my god, it's your boyfriend isn't it? He totally dumped you. I knew that wasn't going to last long."

"What?" I stopped her. "We've been together for a day and you think we're over now?" I wasn't sure I followed her line of reasoning. "I assure you, we're fine. I'm just not going to see him this weekend, that's all."

"Oh my god, Pam," Kelly cooed. "And you're, like, totally going to miss him. That's so, totally romantic."

For some reason, Ryan's interest was perked. "Well, that's weird."

"What's weird?" I asked having no idea what he was getting at.

"It's just weird that you're spending time apart," he explained. "I mean you guys have been attached at the hip since the festival started. Maybe the guy just needs his space. Maybe you shouldn't be so clingy."

"Maybe you should know what you're talking about," I shot back feeling that Ryan was just projecting at this point. "Jim's going to be gone for work related things not because we're already tired of each other."

"How do you know?" Ryan goaded. "Maybe work is code for 'leave me alone for a while' or maybe he just found someone else he wanted to be with. You know, he probably could do better."

I was tempted to smack him. "I know because Jim is not that guy," I said through gritted teeth. "And because Jim and I are not you and Kelly."

With that, I left the bewildered Ryan with Kelly and plopped myself down in a chair next to Oscar. "Having that great of a day, huh?" Oscar inquired with a smile.

I gave him a glare. "Why is everyone we work with insane?"

Oscar laughed but knew better than to push the subject any farther.

David Wallace then called the meeting back to order. "Alright guys, I want to start again by introducing the head of park security, Hank. He's been a great help with the festival this year and why don't we all give him a round of thanks."

The room applauded as the older gentleman came to the front. "Thank you guys. I just want to let you know that we've increased security for the last few days of the festival. I have men surrounding the outside of the park and a few to watch the gates now. But I do want to remind everyone that most theft jobs are actually inside jobs, so please everyone, be honest."

All eyes shifted to Ryan, who happened to be sitting behind me. He only shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't care. We all clapped for Hank and he was then replaced with Holly.

"Hello again," she said with a friendly smile. "Hopefully there will be no more branches falling on tents today or I may never get through this," she let out a chuckled but only Michael let out a loud laugh. "Well, as I was saying before, we may not be in as tight a situation as we thought. First of all, most of you know that there has recently been a lawsuit against the museum. Without needing to go into too much detail the lawsuit has been dropped."

"Mrs. Allen dropped the charges?" I whispered to Oscar.

"Jan got fired," he informed me. "Mrs. Allen had personal issue with her, not so much the museum. It's going to be settled outside of court."

"Well, that's good," I said.

"Secondly," Holly continued. "I believe we've made enough revenue from the festival so far to keep it going for the rest of the week. Great job, guys!" There was a loud round of applause throughout the tent. "And I would really like to thank Pam Beesly for coordinating such a great festival this year."

I blushed and sunk lower in my chair as the applause continued. Oscar poked at me to stand but I only waved my hand in the air to acknowledge the compliment.

"However," Holly went on growing serious. "I don't believe we have enough money to fund for the new wing. We'll have to find another way to raise money."

Phyllis raised her hand. "How about a special kind of fundraiser," she suggested. "Like an auction of some sort. Maybe we could get some of the local artists to sell their art an auction supporting the museum."

There was a positive buzz around the room over the idea. I liked it a lot and thought the idea could be expanded. "Maybe it could be a community thing as well," I suggested. "Maybe we could get some of the local business to donate various things to auction, then they could get advertising and we could raise some more money for the new wing. Sounds like something we could do to generate interest in next year's festival so we could be even more successful next year."

"That's a great idea, Pam," David Wallace commented from behind Holly. The rest of the room began shouting out various ideas to add to Phyllis's and mine. Holly grabbed some paper and began writing all of it down.

"Yeah, great idea," Ryan said smugly, as he leaned forward in his chair to whisper to me. "How many reporters do you think you'll have to sleep with to get good press on this auction? You know Jim's not a good enough journalist to spin anything positively. Oh, wait, you can't even get him tonight, so no worries there. Keep up the good job, Pam." He sat back in his chair laughing.

My anger broke and I almost jumped over the chair to start beating the crap out of Ryan. Oscar grabbed a hold of me to settle me down. "Don't let him get to you," he advised. "It's a good idea, I assure you. He's just being a punk."

"Thanks, Oscar," I muttered. It didn't stop me from throwing Ryan a death glare. "It's a shame they didn't lock you up, Ryan."

The rest of the meeting went by quickly and productively. I was excited at all the input for raising money for the new museum wing and it seemed as though everyone else was as well. And, with the board being there, it looked as though we had a solid plan for next year's festival as well as a positive outlook on the future of the museum. With the exception of the small amount of time I spent with Jim, it's the best I felt all morning.

The rain had finally subsided, therefore; the festival would finally be able to open to the public. Everyone was on their way out to help open the park to the public when David Wallace called me over. I would have been nervous about the prospect if Alex hadn't been standing beside him grinning.

"Pam," David Wallace began with a grin. "I just wanted to take a second and thank you for all your hard work this week. I know the festival has a few more days to go, but you've really done a commendable job."

"Wow," I said surprised and a little relieved to hear him say that. "Thank you so much."

"I also wanted to say," his voice lowered. "On a more confidential level, I'm not sure how close we are to finding a replacement for Jan. So, for now, I'm appointing you to keep this festival running. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, excited at the opportunity.

"Okay, great," he said with a pat on the back. Just as we were wrapping up our conversation, two gentlemen I had never met before approached us. "Pam, not sure if you've met them, but this is Tom and Pete. They came on the board at the last election," Wallace introduced.

"Oh, hi," I said shaking their hands.

They both said hello, looking me over fondly in almost an uncomfortable way. "So, we've heard great things about you," Tom said.

"And it sounds like you've been doing well based on this meeting," Pete commented.

"Thank you," I said a little hesitantly. They were giving me an odd vibe.

"So, David's told us you've been our PR person for, what, six months now?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, a little over six months," I answered.

"Wow, well then," Pete continued. "Maybe we have another candidate for director."

"Uh, yeah, maybe," I hadn't given any thought about myself in Jan's position. I wasn't sure I even wanted the job. "I don't know. I've been thinking about working more on my art," I said honestly. "I've even been excepted into Pratt."

"Really, Pratt?" Alex, who had been standing close to us the whole time jumped in. "That's awesome, Pam."

"Pratt, huh," Tom said looking unimpressed. "That's rather competitive. Do you really think you have what it takes to be an artist?"

"Yeah, that's a huge risk," Pete added. "I've known many people who drop out of art school after only a few months. Why risk the job you have, a sure thing?"

I was shocked to hear them be so unsupportive. "Well, I'll never know if I don't try," I informed them.

After a moment, the two men started laughing. "Pam, we're totally kidding," Tom said.

"Yeah, good luck with Pratt," Pete said. "We totally had her for a second, Tom."

"Totally had her," Tom echoed.

I didn't find it that funny. "Yeah, thanks," I said not wanting to be in their company any longer then I had to. I again thanked David for his support and headed out of the tent. Alex followed.

"Yeah, I probably should have warned you," Alex started when we were outside. "That with the exception of David and Holly the board is made up of a bunch of asses."

"Yeah, I didn't really need that this morning," I replied. "Even if they were just fooling around, that was just…lame."

Alex let out a laugh, which put me at ease some. "But that's awesome about Pratt, Pam. Seriously. You know, I go to Pratt."

"Really?" I asked interested. "Then what are you doing here in Scranton?"

"Summer job," he said placing his hands in his pockets. "My dad knows David Wallace and got me some work over the summer. And it's been pretty cool, Wallace is a nice guy and gave me the job when his old assistant left. Not sure who he'll get to replace me when I leave in a few weeks."

"Well that's cool," I said. "So, do you like Pratt?"

Alex looked astounded that I would even ask such a question. "Pratt is amazing. New York City is amazing. You'll have the time of your life if you decide to come. Have you been accepted for the fall semester? What are you majoring in?"

"I'm on the waiting list," I told him. "But I definitely have an in for the spring semester. And I was thinking graphic design, though I'm not sure exactly yet what I would study."

"No way," Alex said. "I'm doing graphic design."

"Really? Wow," I said thinking that it was a small world. "Yeah, you'll have to totally help me out if I decide to go."

"Wait, if?" he asked concerned. "What do you mean if?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I haven't decided if I'll be going or not. There's just so much to think about. And, I don't know, I did art in community college but Pratt is big time. I mean, what if I'm not good enough. And then there's the job thing and the money thing and the boyfriend thing-"

"The boyfriend thing?" he asked curiously.

I blushed a little. "Yeah, Jim, my boyfriend, we, um, just started dating and I don't know if…" I paused a second thinking that it probably sounded kind of stupid to Alex. "My last relationship was, well, horrible and with Jim I feel like it's-" I was having a hard time coming up with the words. "It's incredibly special. I've never had this before and I don't know if I want to take a chance of a long distance relationship screwing that up, you know?"

"Yeah," Alex said, his head low. I couldn't tell if he was disappointed or something else. "But, Pam-"

He didn't get far because Michael chose that moment to come running up. "Pam! Pam! I need your help!" he cried.

"What is it Michael?" I asked.

Michael put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. "I have to talk to you about something very important. It's about Holly. Something important about Holly."

Alex took it as his cue to leave. "I think I should go find David Wallace," he said backing away. I wanted to tell him that he didn't have to but I didn't stop him.

"What is it about Holly?" I asked putting my full attention on Michael.

"I want to ask her out," he explained in his usual over dramatic manner. "I think I love her."

I sighed. "Michael, how can you say that, you've only known her for a day."

"The same way you know you're in love with Jim," Michael responded with an unusual amount of insight. He had a point; Jim and I had only known each other for a short amount of time. Before meeting Jim, I would have thought it was never possible to find love in such a short time but now that I had, I figured I should at least give Michael the benefit of the doubt.

"Well, Michael," I said trying to be as sympathetic as possible. "Why don't you just ask her out on a date then?"

"I don't want to screw it up," he cried.

I patted him on the back, knowing that he probably would find a way to screw it up. "Well, you can either ask her or forever question yourself for not trying."

"Will you come with me?" he asked.

"Do you really need me to?" I responded, wondering if it was possible for some woman to actually want to take care of this over-grown man child.

He nodded. "I want you to."

"Do you want me to hold your hand as well?" I offered sarcastically.

"Yes," Michael replied automatically. "Wait, no, she might get the wrong idea."

I laughed as I followed Michael to where Holly was standing, chatting with a few other people. Michael took a big breath and I nodded to him that he could do it. He went up to Michael and pulled Holly aside. I noticed her face lit up when she saw him and I thought in that second that Michael actually had a chance.

I was standing too far away to tell what they were saying, but Michael was making large gestures with his arms, demonstrating how great a time she'd have with him. Then I saw her face drop and I knew something bad was about to happen. Holly looked around to see if anyone was watching and I averted my eyes for a moment. When I looked up, I saw that she was hugging a very upset Michael.

"Oh, no," I whispered to myself.

They eventually broke apart and Michael came storming towards me. "This just-" he began angrily. "This just sucks."

"What happened, Michael?" I asked. It hit me that I actually cared about Michael's well being.

"She told me that she likes spending time with me," Michael explained. "But we can't go out on a date because of her stupid boyfriend."

"Oh, Michael," I sighed. Understanding how much he probably hurt, I gave him a hug.

Michael cried into my shoulder for nearly a half hour and because I was feeling some sympathy for him, it was hard to tear myself away. "She was the one," Michael was moaning. "I know she was the one."

I let out a sigh. "You also said that about Jan, remember?" I reminded him. "So, maybe it's okay that she has a boyfriend."

"It's not okay," he wailed, burring his head in my shirt. I didn't like the fact that he was getting tears all over it but I gave him another small hug. "Last night was perfect," he stated firmly. "Absolutely perfect. Jan never felt perfect. Jan was a nightmare and I'm glad she's gone. But Holly was…perfect."

"I know," I said soothingly as possible. "But there's nothing you can do about it now."

"I can wait," Michael said with a strange sense of maturity. "I can wait for her."

I nodded, though unsure how long Michael could wait for something like that. "You can," I agreed. "In the meantime, why don't you clean yourself up, okay? And maybe you can help set up the pavilion for tonight's disco party. Remember we're having a disco themed party tonight?"

"I do," Michael said, still choked up. "I bought my disco ball with me today."

"Right," I said. "Why don't you go get it and we'll put it up in the pavilion."

"Okay," Michael said through his tears. "Maybe I'll invite Holly as well."

"No," I said immediately. "I don't think that'll be a good idea. Maybe you'll meet someone just as perfect at the party."

"I don't think I'll ever meet anyone perfect again," Michael sobbed.

"You know, I didn't think I'd ever meet anyone perfect either," I commented. I pulled Michael away from me so I could look him in the eye. "And then I met Jim and it's been amazing. Michael, it can happen for you too, you just have to find the right girl."

"I did find the right girl," Michael protested. "Holly."

"Oh boy," I said knowing I wasn't going to win this argument. "Why don't you go get that disco ball, okay?"

Michael nodded, finally having calmed down. "Alright, Pam," he said.

As Michael headed away to get his disco ball, Kelly came storming past me, her nose in the air. Usually, whenever she sees me, she stops to talk about everything for an hour. For her to completely ignore me seemed out of character.

"Kelly?" I asked.

She whirled around and gave me an unexpected dark glance. "You know, Pam, you should really pay more attention to what's going around."

"What?" I asked completely confused.

"You know," Kelly started with an attitude. "I probably shouldn't be the one having to tell you this but there are people who are complaining about how you are running this festival."

"What people?" I wasn't sure whether to believe her or not.

"They, um, people who are coming to see the festival," she stuttered over her words. Kelly didn't lie that well so I knew something was up.

"Really? What are they saying?" I challenged.

It took Kelly a minute to think it over. "They're saying you're being mean and nasty behind their backs and that you show morons like Michael sympathy when you have no sympathy real problems. And that if you didn't spend so much time flirting with reporters that maybe this festival would run a little smoother."

I almost laughed aloud. "Yeah, the people coming into the festival said this?" Kelly nodded. "And not any of the staff?" She shook her head. "And Ryan didn't put you up to this?"

She stared at me blankly for am moment. "He almost went to jail," she argued. "And he told me it was a traumatic experience and that we should try to be nicer to him."

"Oh god," I said rolling my eyes. "Kelly, an hour ago you were completely pissed off at him. What happened?"

"He told me what happened and that he was framed," Kelly informed me. "And then he said he changed. He told me he wanted to be a better person and I totally believe him. I mean he even changed his hair."

"Hadn't noticed that," I said under my breath.

"What?" Kelly asked tilting her head.

"Nothing," I replied. "What about Darryl? Aren't you still dating him?"

"Yeah, but I don't know," Kelly responded. "I mean if Ryan wants to get back together, we have such a history there. I should probably give him a second chance."

I decided it wasn't worth it explaining that this was more like a tenth chance than a second. "Well, whatever works for you," I said. "And so I don't have to worry about any serious complaints?"

Kelly shook her head. "Nope. But, I am going to remind you that I'm having my birthday party next week, so you better be there. Or I'm going to go straight to David Wallace and tell him you aren't being fair to the employees."

I nodded at the empty threat. "I promise I'll come," I said knowing that was all Kelly needed to hear.

Kelly gave me an excited hug. "Oh, it'll be so great. I have to go find Ryan but when we have a chance, we'll totally have to talk about party planning."

"Sounds like fun," I gave her a false grin before she took off to find Ryan.

For the first time that morning, I was alone. It was nice to have a moment of peace so that I could make my way around the park. Despite the rain and the one tent that fell over, the park looked good. While I walked, occasionally I would come by a turned over lantern or tangled lights that I would fix but for the most part the festival had survived the storm. And in no time, people were populating the park, making it just as busy as it had been the previous days. I smiled as I watched people float around, anxiously going from one tent to another.

As I walked, I thought of Jim. I couldn't get my mind off him. I looked at my phone every five minutes or so, which was silly since I had my ring-tone up all the way and would be aware if anyone called. I was tempted to just call him myself but Ryan's words, unfortunately, came back to haunt me. Was I being too clingy if I called him? Did Jim really want his space? My gut told me no. I thought back to our last conversation on the phone. He seemed just as upset as I was about having to be gone for the whole weekend.

I came up to the footbridge in the middle of the park and stood on it, resting my arms on it and leaned forward to watch the little stream trickle through. My memory floated back to a few days ago when Jim and I stood on that bridge. I was fairly certain that he had wanted to kiss me then and if he had, I probably would have let him. I let out a laugh, thinking about how complicated we had both made the situation. I wished he was there to share the memory with me.

I laughed again, thinking I was crazy. It had only been a few hours since I had seen him and yet, I missed him terribly. I wondered if something was wrong with me. Or maybe that was what happened when you fell in love. It was a startling thought but I realized I never felt like this with Roy, nothing this intense, nothing this passionate. And it was a little scary still but I embraced it wholeheartedly. I wouldn't give up the crazy feelings I had for Jim for anything.

While I was deep in my thoughts, I hadn't realized that Alex had approached me. "Pam," he said breaking my trance. He looked like a man on a mission. "I need to talk to you."

I was a little startled at his intensity. "What is it Alex, did something happen?"

"No, no," he said shaking his head. "I just have to get this out before-"

My phone rang. It was Jim and even though Alex seemed to be in a hurry, I couldn't ignore the phone. "Just a second," I told him while flipping open my phone. "Hey, Jim," I said.

"Hey," he replied. Just the sound of his voice made me feel warm again and if it was possible, he sounded happier than the last I talked to him.

"Do you mind waiting a minute?" I asked regretfully. "I'm kinda in the middle of something."

"Yeah, sure," he replied. "Do you want me to call back?"

"No, just hold on, I'll be with you in a second," I said. When he replied okay, I hit the mute button and returned my attention to Alex. "Alright, so what's up?"

He was pacing nervously. "Look, I've been thinking about this since we talked earlier and while I know it's not really my place to comment, I think I just need to say this."

I eyed him curiously, not sure where he was going with his speech. "Okay…"

"I don't think your boyfriend should hold your career back," he said rather bluntly. I became incredibly tense at the mention of 'boyfriend' and 'career' and stayed silent as Alex continued. "Yeah, sure, having a new relationship is great but don't hide behind that because you are too scared to take a chance on yourself. I mean, why did you apply to Pratt in the first place, to see if you could get in and continue with your art, right? Pam, I'm going to tell you right now, going to Pratt is one of the best opportunities you will ever have, so don't let anyone, including yourself, prevent you from even trying. You'll regret it. And no matter how happy this guy makes you, you'll always wonder what you could have been."

He had struck a nerve and I was so shaken that I could only nod when he had finished talking. Jim wasn't holding me back and it made me mad that he would even begin to suggest that. But was I holding myself back? I couldn't give a clear answer on that one.

Alex could tell I wasn't able to give a coherent reply. "And I've said what I wanted to. I'll let you just think that over. If you have any questions, about anything, you can come and talked to me." He rubbed my shoulder a little for comfort but when I still didn't respond he began to walk away.

As I watched him go, I remembered that Jim was still waiting on the line. Before I unmuted the phone, I noticed that I could hear a dial tone and a dreadful realization came over me. I had put the phone on speaker instead of mute. "Jim?" I spoke timidly into the phone but it was too late. I wondered what exactly Jim had heard before he hung up.


	25. You Sexy Thing

The phone rang. No answer. The phone continued to ring; still no answer.

…_This is Jim, leave a message…_

"Hey, Jim, it's Pam," I started, probably sounding more frantic and desperate then the first two messages. "I know that by now I should have it in my head that you are on your way to Canada but if you make it to the airport early or are able to get free chance at all, I really hope you are able to call me back. I think we should talk. Just-" About a million things raced in my head. So many things I could and possibly should say but it was hard to articulate exactly how I felt, especially over the phone. "Just- give me a call back." Another pause, that I could have punctuated with _I love you_ or even _I miss you_ but instead I simply said 'bye' and closed my phone.

I wasn't sure how else to contact Jim, short of getting on a bus right then and heading over to the airport. But that would have been a little drastic. There was no need to worry, I kept telling myself. Jim just had to catch a plane. It had nothing to do with my conversation with Alex. Nothing. But the more I tried to dismiss the notion from my head, the more worried I got.

I contemplated trying again, but feeling that it was no use, I decided that I should at least try to concentrate on the reopening of the festival and less on my relationship. My attempt to clear my mind failed when I saw Alex strolling across the path.

"Hey," I shouted, letting my anger get the best of me. It was rare that I was ever mad at anyone but Alex's speech had hit a nerve. "Listen, you have no idea what you're talking about," I started. "I am not holding myself back from anything. And Jim, my boyfriend, most definitely isn't holding me back, so you have no right to accuse either of us of anything."

"Hey, Pam, calm down," he said quietly. I had expected him to be shaken but instead he looked more amused. "You can take it out on me all you want but you have to ask yourself, who are you madder at right now, me or yourself?"

I was about to let my anger come full front and start yelling when, behind Alex, I saw Kelly and Ryan stumbling down the path, each tightly wrapped up in the other, making out as they walked. "Oh good god," I uttered. Alex turned to see them as well.

"Oh, Ryan," Kelly gasped between kisses. "I'm so glad we're back together."

"I told you I'd get you back," Ryan returned. "Did you break up with Darryl yet?"

"I sent him a text," Kelly said, grabbing onto Ryan tighter. "It's over."

Ryan pulled away. "Really? That was quick."

Kelly ogled him. "Of course, silly. There's no one but you."

I thought I was going to be sick. I was going to continue my rant at Alex but realized that it wasn't worth it. I didn't want to admit that he was partly right. I was very annoyed with him, but more so annoyed that he made me doubt myself. Instead of saying anything, I just gave him a shake of my head and walked away, leaving him a little confused.

I meandered through the park, not really having any direction. After about ten minutes of me wandering around, constantly checking my phone to see if Jim had called me back or not, I leaned up against a tree to watch everyone else in the park. I was glad the people who had made it out looked like they were having a good time because this morning had been a nightmare for me.

"Hey, Pam," I turned my head to see Oscar coming up beside me. "You okay this morning? I couldn't help but feel you've been having a rough time this week."

"Hey, Oscar," I responded. There was something calming about Oscar. A voice of reason amongst the madness. "It has been kind of bumpy," I admitted. "I feel like this festival is a disaster. I mean, can it get any worse than this?"

Oscar chuckled. "It's not really that bad."

"Not really that bad?" I said in disbelief. "Have you been here at all this week?"

"It's always this crazy," Oscar explained. "But I don't think you've ever been this closely involved. And the people who show up don't know either. With the exception of the tightly wound Mrs. Allen, I think everyone has been enjoying themselves this week."

"Jan got fired," I reminded him.

"Jan was always going to get fired," Oscar came back. "It was just a matter of when. Same with the museum's financial issues. The festival hasn't added to them, maybe just made them more prevalent."

"Right," I said, digging my foot into the ground a little.

"Is this really what's bothering you?" Oscar asked after a moment of silence. "How's the new relationship going?"

"Fine," I said automatically. "Jim and I are," I blushed a little before continuing. "I love him, Oscar."

Oscar gave me a friendly smile. "I'm not surprised."

"I got into Pratt," I went on, knowing that Oscar sensed there was more to the story then that. "On the waiting list actually."

"Well great!"

"But I'm not sure I'm going to go," I said. "And not because of Jim and not because I'm too scared too, I'm just- I don't know how to put it. There's so much going on and-"

"-And it's all a little overwhelming?" Oscar finished for me. "Because Pratt is a great school but you're not sure that's what you want to do with the rest of your life?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed, excited that someone finally seemed to get it. "Yes, thank you Oscar. I think I just need to see where my life is headed before running off to New York."

"That makes sense," Oscar said. "And, if I'm not too bold, Jim is giving you a hard time?"

"No," I said instantly. "No, Jim's been great. Just- David Wallace's assistant berated me this morning for the possibility of waiting or not going at all."

Oscar rolled his eyes. "That little punk? Don't listen to him. He's a pretentious art snob. Follow your heart Pam, that's what you're good at doing."

"Thanks, Oscar," I said feeling better. "Did I ever tell you how delightful you are to have around?"

Oscar let out a laugh. "Thank you. Thank you. So, we're still good for the Finer Things Club next week?"

"Yeah, sounds good," I agreed. I said goodbye to Oscar and feeling slightly better about my situation, I headed to the pavilion to help set up the decorations for that night's festivities.

As I made my way up to the pavilion, I noticed that someone was leaning up against one of the pillars. "Oh my god," I said, my breath catching when I realized who it was.

"I'm not going to Canada," Jim said as I came closer. A broad grin slipped over my lips. A grin that I couldn't contain if I tried. "Oh, don't think it has anything to do with you. I just didn't think an awards ceremony being held in Toronto had anything to do with Scranton. And when I talked to Josh about it, we both agreed that maybe it'd be better for my work ethic if I took the day off like planned. I'm not sure why you're grinning at me like that. I mean, Dwight jumped on the chance to take the story anyway, something about a beet expo in Toronto. Besides, I don't even like baseball that much anyway. But I assure you my decision has nothing to do with wanting to spend time with you."

His voice trailed off as I came up close to him. "I'm so glad you're here," I told him.

"Me too," he said before leaning down to kiss me.

Before Jim and I could sink into our kiss, I hear Michael's voice shouting at me. "Pam, Pam! I've got it!"

I reluctantly broke away from him. "Got what, Michael?"

"The disco ball!" he held up the shiny orb, proud of it.

"Sounds like you've had a great morning," Jim commented, not taking his eyes off me.

I sighed. "You have no idea."

"So, I came to kidnap you for lunch," Jim said a few minutes later, as soon as we had helped Michael put his disco ball up in the pavilion. "Unless, you're needed around here."

"Oh, please, kidnap me," I said. "There's probably plenty here to do but I need to get away for a little bit."

Jim laughed. "Alright then," he said slipping his hand in mine as we headed towards the parking lot.

"Hey, uh," I started. I was slightly nervous to ask him about earlier when he was on the phone during Alex's speech. "Did you get any of my messages?"

"Messages?" he asked, looking genuinely unsure. "My phone died, so if you tried to call me, I didn't get it."

I let out a little sigh of relief. "Okay, never mind then," I said, dropping the subject for now. "Just ignore the bunch of messages I left when you charge it up. So, did you have some place in mind for lunch?"

"Uh," he hesitated for a moment. "I was thinking we could have lunch at my place, if that's okay with you."

"Yeah, sure," I said, eager to see where he lived.

A smile formed on his lips. "Okay good."

"So, you aren't on your way to Canada," I said after we made it to his car and were on our way.

"Nope," he said with a laugh. "To be honest, I wanted out of that the minute Josh asked me to do it. If it weren't for the fact that I'm still on probation, I would have turned it down flat when he asked me."

"Yeah, about the probation," I said concerned. "Not going to this story isn't going to affect that at all, is it?"

"Josh assured me it wouldn't," he explained. "If it had, I doubt he would have let me out of it."

"And Dwight is going to a beet expo?" I asked with a laugh.

"Yeah, don't get me started on that," he said. "I'm just happy to hand the whole thing off."

During the car ride over, I told Jim all about the bad morning from the crazy meeting to Ryan's horrible insults to the tree crashing down. The only thing I didn't mention was Alex but I thought I would save that for later. Jim was a great listener and I was grateful how tolerant he was about me complaining on about my work situation. He nodded in the correct places and agreed in others but mostly let me vent, which is what I really needed. I wasn't sure if I could express to him how happy I was that he wasn't heading off to Canada right then.

In turn, Jim told me about his interview and how smoothly it went and more about Dwight and his beet farm, his one instance where he visited making me laugh. By the time we reached Jim's home, all the pent up anger and frustration I had been feeling earlier seemed to have dissipate.

Jim lived across town in one of the older neighborhoods. I was surprised when we pulled up the driveway to a smaller house instead of one of the many apartment buildings we had passed along the way.

"So, you rent a house?" I asked after we had gotten out of the car.

Jim opened the front door for me. "Actually, I, uh, own it."

"Really?" I hadn't pegged Jim as a homeowner.

Jim nodded as he led me into the kitchen. There were boxes everywhere and he scrambled to clear off the kitchen table, pushing the contents of the table into an empty box and tossing into a corner. "Sorry, I haven't fully unpacked yet."

"So, you just bought the house?" I concluded.

"Kind of," he admitted. "I've been living here for two months. I tend to get things out when I need them."

"Cute," I said with smile.

"So, what would you like?" Jim asked, opening the fridge. "I have turkey, roast beef, ham, and tuna."

"Well stocked on the lunch meats, huh," I said with a laugh. "Turkey would be just fine."

As Jim made the sandwiches, I made myself comfortable on one of the stools next to the counter. I watched Jim get out the bread and cheese, hesitating on asking the question that had been back in my mind since I had seen him.

"Uh, Jim?" I started nervously.

"What?" he asked, not aware of what I wanted. "Not making the sandwich right? Oh, you probably want mustard." He grabbed the condiment out of the fridge.

"Yeah, thanks," I said. "But, I was just wondering," my voice trailed off.

Jim stopped making me the sandwich to eye me curiously. "Yes?"

I clasped and unclasped my hands. "Uh, how much did you hear, earlier, when we were on the phone? I mean, how much did you hear when Alex gave his little speech?"

"All of it," Jim answered simply.

"All of it?"

Jim nodded his head and went back to making the sandwiches. "Yeah, then my phone died." He reached for a bag of chips that lay on the top of the fridge.

"And it didn't bother you?" I asked slowly.

He handed me a plate, giving me a suspicious look. "Should it have?"

"Well, it's just that he," I tilted my head unsure of what I was asking. "Why didn't it bother you?"

Jim let out a laugh as he grabbed a couple of sodas from the fridge. "Well, first of all, that guy Alex? Totally into you."

I scoffed. "How can you even know that, you've never met him."

"Any guy that tells you to ditch your boyfriend is into you," he assured me.

"He's, like, seven or eight years younger than me," I pointed out. "I doubt he'd be interested."

Jim came around the counter to sit on the stool next to me. "Really?" he asked in disbelief. He looked down at his sandwich. "You don't really get it do you? You're beautiful. Beautiful in the way that matters. I mean, yeah you look amazing but you have this sweet, wonderful personality. I don't know how everyone hasn't fallen in love you."

I blushed. It wasn't every day I heard something like that. "Thank you."

Jim looked up at me, seriousness in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "And besides, I meant what I said this morning and I hope you can trust that. If you want to stay here, that's fine. And if you want to move to New York, I'll support that as well. Hell, if you want to go to Japan and join the circus, by all means, do that. I want to be apart of your life but I don't want to prevent you from living it."

"Oh," I melted a little. "I guess I'm not used to anyone caring so much. I don't think Roy ever did." I paused, taking in a deep breath. "There's been so many changes in my life recently, not just you, but with the museum, Jan getting fired, Roy, getting into Pratt. Everything is happening so fast. My head is spinning. It's just so- scary, you know?"

Jim picked at the crust of his bread. "So, does this mean you want to slow down?"

"No!" I said quickly, grabbing his hand. I looked him in the eye, wanting him to know that that was the last thing I wanted. "No, not at all, Jim. Not scary bad, scary good. It all feels a little overwhelming at times. I'm so glad I'm here with you. You know, this is probably going to sound incredibly cheesy, but you're not just a boyfriend to me. You're my best friend."

Jim's face seemed to relax. "Really?"

"Yeah," I gave with a smile. "I'm not sure if you realize how amazing _you _are. You're a comforting rock in my insane world. I admire how relaxed you are, taking everything in stride. I don't know how you do it, but you certainly calm me down."

"It's just an act," Jim said attempting to be modest.

"Oh, come on," I said giving his hand a squeeze.

"Pam," Jim started. "I'm probably just as scared as you are. You have no idea. In this past week, I've gotten into a fight, went on probation for screwing up at work, and have pretty much alienated all prior relationships just to spend time with you. And I don't regret it. I can't believe how lucky I am to have found you because you make me feel alive. And as thrilling as that is, I don't know what the hell I'm doing. And that is scary."

"Well," I gave. "I think you're doing just fine."

He smiled at me. "You know, before I met you, my entire life was routine. My job was just a routine. Even my girlfriends were just a routine. I don't know if I can thank you enough for finding that spark in me. For letting me know that I can be better, even if my actions in the past week have proved otherwise. So the only thing I can hope to do, is give a little bit of what you've given to me, back to you."

"You've given me more than you know," I assured him. "I don't know where I'm going in my life. I really don't. But I'm so glad that I've found you, too. Because now the journey won't be so lonely."

Jim pulled me into a warm hug. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too."

"So, it was my parent's house," Jim explained as he took me down the hallway. We had finished our lunch a few minutes earlier and he was now giving me a tour of the house. "My parent's were retiring and I had been saving up for a while, so I decided to buy it from them."

"Cool," I said as I inspected the photos on the wall. Most of them were cute photos of Jim's family, his parents, his brothers and his sister. The one at the end, however, was a painting of a creepy clown. "What is this?" I asked laughing.

"Oh, that," he said shaking his head. "You know, what's remarkable is that growing up I didn't even notice this thing. It is horrifying isn't it? But the scary thing is, it won't come off the wall." To demonstrate, he tried prying the frame off the wall. It wouldn't budge.

I tried myself, the picture not moving at all. "That is crazy."

"Where are the art thieves when you need them?" Jim joked as he led me around the corner to the living room.

"Wow," I said, taking immediate note of the décor. "Paneling and orange shag carpet. Score."

"It was the '70s," Jim defended with a shrug.

The only thing that was new was a black leather massage chair sitting next to a raggedy, old, brown couch. "I can not believe you have a vibrating chair," I said with a laugh. I sat down in the chair to make myself comfortable. The chair wasn't even turned on and it was the most relaxed I had felt in a long time.

"Yeah, got this as a gift for graduating college," Jim said, punching a few of the buttons to get it going. "It was either this or something practical," he explained. "The chair seemed like much more fun."

The machine turned on, the vibrations immediately spreading out against my body. I closed my eyes as the gentle waves pushed against my back, shoulders and legs. "Oh, Jim," I said sinking into the chair more. "This is fantastic. I am never leaving this chair."

"Never?" Jim inquired, raising an eyebrow. He sunk down to his knees so that he could be eye level with me. "That seems like an awfully long time."

"Well, it's going to take a lot to get me out of this thing," I said.

"Really?" Jim gave me a mischievous smirk, as if my statement had been a challenge. "I bet I could get you out of that chair."

"Yeah?" I shot back. "Bring it."

Jim immediately started playing with the buttons on the chair. Instead of the calm wave of vibrations that had been generating, the chair began to violently whack at my back.

"Ack," I said, leaning forward, trying hard to keep my butt firmly in place. "Why does this chair have a death setting?"

Jim laughed. "Weak, Beesly, weak."

"Hey, I'm not budging," I said firmly.

Jim pushed the buttons once again on the chair control and the vibrations came to a complete stop. Still on his knees, he came around the chair so that he was directly in front of me. We stared at each other a moment, his grin never faltering, me unsure of where he was going with this. A split second later, his hands were at my side, tickling me frantically.

I burst out laughing. "No fair," I said through my laughter. "No fair!"

After a few more seconds, Jim pulled away. "Alright," he gave in. "Do you want some dessert? I have some Tiramisu, it's a few days old, but still should be good."

I shook my head. "Weak, Jim, weak."

A half smile formed on Jim's lips. A wicked half smile. "Alright, then," he said before placing his hands on my wrists. "If that's how you want to play. It is on."

Jim leaned in, his body hovering over mine. My heart began to race as it always did whenever he got this close. He gently brushed his lips against mine, barely a touch and they were gone. I leaned in for more but he pulled way, grinning devilishly. He moved in again, his lips tauntingly close. I remained steady, having a hard time resisting the urge to kiss him, knowing that if I tried, he would just pull away. After a moment, he placed a tender kiss on the corner of my mouth, then continued to lay light kisses along my jaw line. I rolled my head back against the chair, allowing him access to my neck. He playfully nipped and sucked at my skin as he worked his way down my neck. He stopped suddenly and I squirmed in the chair, torn between giving in completely and holding on to my resolve.

He brought his eyes to mine and I saw there a dark want that I had never seen before. He spoke, his voice a low, sensual rumble. "There's nothing I'd like do to more," he said, inching closer, teasingly slow, "then to make out with you right now."

I held my place definitely, not sure how much longer I could hold out until I finally succumbed to my own desire. His hands dropped my wrists down to my knees and he massaged them gently for a moment before running them repeatedly up and down my thighs. A heat I hadn't felt in a long time ripped through me and I finally broke, lust finally overtaking me.

My hands now free, I pulled him in for a hungry kiss and moaned a little at the relief of his lips finally on mine. We kissed frantically, each of us not able to get enough of the other. Our lips opened and tongues entwined as we both gave in to the lust, the passion. I ran my hands through his soft hair, pulling him as close as I possibly could.

Jim's hands left my thighs and wrapped around my waist, pulling me forward and off the chair. I crossed my legs around his torso as he lifted me. "Looks like I win," he whispered between kisses.

"You haven't won anything yet," I teased as he lowered me onto the carpet.

My chest tightened as I realized I wanted more and although a sense of nervousness began to flow through me, it didn't stop me from pawing at his shirt. We broke apart long enough for me to help him pull it the rest of the way off. I looked at him lovingly, tracing my hands over his bare arms, chest, and stomach. He was beautiful.

He ran one hand gently through my hair and over my cheek, asking me with his eyes if it was okay to continue. I was scared not having done this in a long time but my need to feel close to him overtook my fear and I nodded, letting him know that everything was alright. We began to kiss again, slow and deliberate, each one warming me, engulfing me more.

I felt Jim's hand slip beneath my shirt, gradually massaging upward until tentatively resting on my breast. I arched into his palm, letting him know it was okay and he squeezed hard, causing me to moan into the kiss. He began to knead my breast, his touch electrifying. Soon, my shirt was off, thrown next to his and I was running my hands down his back, to his hips, wanting to feel more of him.

There was nothing in the world but Jim, his hands all over my skin, his lips sweet on my own. Nothing at all.

Until my cell phone rang.

"Ignore it," Jim panted.

I wanted to but as the phone continued to ring a frightening realization came to me. My parents! My eyes grew wide with panic; I had completely forgotten I was meeting my parents for lunch.

"Jim, I'm so sorry," I told him. "But I- we've got to get back to the festival."

Jim rolled away and stared at the ceiling. "Uh, okay."

"It's my parents," I explained. "I told them I was meeting them for lunch and they're probably on their way—"

"Oh, that's fine," he said, his eyes not coming down. "But first, you need to put your shirt back on and secondly," he paused. "I'm gonna need a minute."

I heard him chant, 'Dwight eating beats' as I scrambled to get my shirt and throw him his. I let out a sigh as I slipped it over my head wishing that something about this day would go the way I wanted it to.


	26. I Shall Believe

Ten minutes later Jim and I were in his car racing towards the park. I stared out the window at the dark grey clouds berating myself for forgetting that my parents were coming and hoping that we would be able to get back to the park before they arrived.

Jim, however, took my silence to mean something else. "Hey, Pam," he started, his voice quite and unsure. "I'm sorry."

I turned towards him. "Sorry for what?"

"Earlier," he blushed a little. "I didn't mean to push you."

I shook my head and gave him a smile. "You didn't push me to do anything I didn't want to do," I assured him.

His face relaxed. "So, then, what's on your mind?"

"My parents," I said glumly, staring out the window to watch the trees fly by. "I can't believe I forgot about them."

He smirked. "Well, to be fair, you were distracted."

I let out a laugh. "True, but it's not just that. They've been fighting. A lot. And my sister and I have been worried that maybe they may not make it."

"Oh," Jim frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that."

I shrugged. "It's so weird though. I mean, when we were younger they seemed fine. We always did family trips and stuff and they never fought. But now that I think about it, they never really talked either. And then my dad retired and ever since then, it's like he's been checked out or something. I don't know. Everything he does drives my mom nuts and she calls every other day to complain about something. My sister and I think we should have an intervention or something. But I'm a little afraid of doing that. You know?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah, Pam, I'm so sorry."

"What are your parents like?" I asked.

"My parents?" he leaned back to think about it. "They're okay. They're always joking and teasing each other and being absolutely disgusting. But they're good people."

"And they get along?" I added. "That's nice. I'm not sure if my parents ever got a long." I searched my memory, trying hard to remember any time my parents seemed to enjoy each other's company and I was hard pressed to come up with one.

"Yeah, they do," Jim continued. "Almost to a fault sometimes though. Christmas a couple of years ago, for example, my sister and I were home and on Christmas morning, she and I got up late. Our brothers and their families weren't due in until that evening anyway, so why not? Anyway, we head downstairs and go into the kitchen to find my parents in a compromising position against one of the counters."

I laughed. "Well, that's sweet that they still…do that."

Jim's eyes grew wide. "That wasn't sweet, that was horrifying. To this day, I still can't get that image out of my head."

"I can't imagine my parents like that," I said with a shudder. "I'm slightly amazed that I was born some days."

"Well," Jim started with a smile. "I'm glad they had you."

"Thank you," I returned blushing slightly. "So, you're alright meeting them today? I know it's incredibly quick and if you'd rather spend your day off doing something else, I wouldn't blame you."

"I'd love to meet them," Jim said seriously. He reached his hand out for mine and gave it a squeeze. "I wouldn't want to spend my day off doing anything else."

I smiled, grateful.

We arrived at the park a short time later, thankfully before my parents arrived. I gave them a call to let them know we'd meet them by the booths. While we waited, Jim and I browsed the merchandise the sellers had out that day. Jim stopped at Moroccan themed one.

"Hey, check this out," he said picking up an old, antique lamp that looked like it belonged on the set of Aladdin. He began to rub it though, I wasn't sure if he was trying to be suggestive or not.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Seeing if the genie will come out," he shrugged innocently.

"That's not what it looks like," I teased.

When Jim realized what I was getting at, he quickly placed the lamp down. "Alright, but if I ever do find a lamp with a genie, you aren't getting any wishes."

"Oh, please," a tiny voice scoffed. It was Angela, who was holding what looked like Barbie dolls with unicorn horns attached to them. "Why am I not surprised that you are into tacky things?" she looked directly at Jim when she said it.

Ignoring her comment, I asked about the dolls. "What is it that you're carrying?"

"It's Princess Unicorn," she said fondly, holding out one of the strange looking dolls for us to look at. "While I don't condone the magic of unicorns nor cross breading of any type, Princess Unicorn was one of the few things I was allowed to play with as a child and now I've made my own in hopes to sell them to young girls so they can have an appropriate role model."

Jim and I exchanged dumbfounded looks. "That's lovely," I said trying to sound supportive. Angela just sneered at me and began to set up her table. Thankfully, so we wouldn't be subjected to any more of Angela's odd ways, my parents called to let me know they had arrived.

My parents were arguing with each other when I saw them walk up the path to greet us. About what, I wasn't sure, as they dropped the argument when they saw me, both plastering on fake smiles. "Mom, dad, how are you?" I greeted them, giving them both hugs.

"We're good," Mom said, though it was a forced statement.

"Where's your sister?" Dad asked. "I thought she was meeting us too."

"Penny's not coming," I explained. "She had to work. She wishes she could be here though."

"She's always working," Mom scoffed. "She needs to take a day off every once in a while."

"She needs to make a living," Dad argued. "How do you expect her to live if she doesn't work?"

Mom shot dad an annoyed look but dropped it.

Not sure how well this would go, I turned the attention to Jim, who was nervously clenching and unclenching his hands. "Mom, dad, I want you to meet Jim Halpert…my boyfriend. Jim this is my mom Helene and my dad William."

"Pleasure to meet you," Jim said holding out his hand for them to shake.

"Please, call me Bill," Dad insisted taking Jim's hand.

"Pam," Mom said looking at me oddly. "I had no idea you were seeing anyone. I figured I'd be the first to know."

"Oh, well," I looked up at Jim fondly. "It just, sort of happened."

Jim grinned back. "Yeah, just like that."

"You're not a warehouse worker are you?" Dad asked bluntly.

"Dad!"

"Bill!" Mom swatted at Dad. "That's rude."

"What?" Dad said unapologetically. "I just want to make sure she's not making the same mistake she made with Roy."

"I'm not, dad," I assured him, blushing at the awkwardness of the situation.

"Actually, I am a sports reporter for the Scranton Times," Jim offered.

Dad lit up. "Sports reporter, huh?" He looked at Jim and then over to me impressed. "What about that, Helene? Pammy's dating a celebrity."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Jim responded.

Mom rolled her eyes. "Bill stop, you're embarrassing him."

"Helene, will you stop telling me what to do?" Dad shot back.

"Okay, then," I interrupted. "Why don't we get you guys some lunch?"

Before I could take a step, Andy Bernard, holding a sitar and strumming it as he lazily came towards us, blocked my path.

"Oh, no," I uttered, giving Jim a horrified look.

"Why, hello Big Tuna. Lady Tunette," Andy exclaimed when he saw us.

"Andy," Jim said slowly. "What could you possibly want?"

Andy missed the exasperation in Jim's voice. "Well, I was supposed to meet Dwight here. He's a friend of yours, correct?"

"No," Jim said but Andy continued.

"After we were forced to leave the restaurant yesterday, we agreed to meet here so that we could finish our duel for Angela." He waved to Angela who was standing at her booth some feet away. When Angela saw him, she looked ill.

"Yeah, I don't think that's going to happen," Jim said.

Andy looked confused. "Why is that? Is Dwight too scared? Did he realize that he would never be a match for the Nard Dog?"

"Uh, he's on a plane headed to Canada," Jim informed him.

"Ha!" Andy let out. "He's so scared he has to flee to another country."

Jim began to speak again but I shook my head to let him know it probably wasn't any use. "So, what was the sitar for?" I asked.

Andy looked at me in disbelief. "How else do you properly serenade a lady?" he began to strum and sing. Both my parents cringed.

"Alright, I get it," I said, holding up a hand to get him to stop.

"You know what this means," Andy said excitedly. "If Dwight isn't here, I automatically win." He gave himself a fist pump before heading to the booth where Angela was cowering behind the counter, trying not to be noticed. "Hear that, my lady?" He tried to grab onto Angela's hand but she kept moving it out of his way. "Looks like I win fair and square."

Angela scowled. "I find you repulsive," she shouted, then turned on her heels and headed off.

Andy gave us a dopey grin. "She's just trying to play hard to get," he said before chasing after her.

My parents stood there stunned. "That is a very strange young man," Mom commented.

We all made it to the food tent so that my parents could get some lunch. Because Jim and I had already eaten, Jim grabbed only a small bag of chips and I took one of the sodas.

"Pam, that can't be all you're eating," Mom noticed.

"Oh, don't worry about it," I replied.

She looked at me sternly. "I don't want you wasting away."

"I'm okay, mom, really," I assured her.

"So, Jimmy," Dad started. I noticed Jim wince at the name Jimmy. "How do you think the Eagles are going to do this year?"

"Oh, you never know," Jim said as he sat down next to me. My parents sat across the table. "Their defense looks good this year but they never seem to get a decent quarterback."

Dad let out a heartfelt laugh and I was happy to see that at least Dad was enjoying our company. Mom sat there, picking at her food, a scowl on her face.

Dad and Jim were in the middle of an in-depth football conversation when an older gentleman and his wife approached us. "Bill and Helene?" the older man asked.

My parents turned and both smiled brightly when they saw the company. "It's Roger and Linda Prince," Dad said, rising to shake their hands. Mom remained seated. Roger and Linda sat down next to Dad. "Roger, you remember my daughter, Pam. She put this whole festival together," he smiled proudly.

"Oh, well we've been having a great time," Roger complimented.

"It's been rather lovely," Linda added.

"Thank you," I replied.

"And so this," Roger said pointing to Jim. "Must be Pam's husband, Ray, right?"

"Uh, no," Jim said slowly. "Jim Halpert," he introduced himself.

"No, no," I added quickly. "I am no longer married."

"Well, that's unfortunate," Linda gave. I assumed she was attempting to be sympathetic but I didn't find the dissolution of my marriage unfortunate.

"So," Roger stepped in. "Bill, how's retirement?"

"It's alright," Dad said honestly. "I'm a little bored. The missus never lets me go out."

Mom looked offended. "I let you go out just fine. I just don't like when you don't return home until two in the morning. I can't figure out why you need to go out that late drinking with your friends. You aren't in college any more."

"Well, maybe you should join us one of these days," Dad said gruffly. "Nothing is stopping you from having a little fun every once in a while."

The Princes exchanged nervous glances. Jim jumped in. "So, Mr. Prince, what is it that you do?"

Roger grumbled. "I sell paper," he said reluctantly. "But it's a dying business. I'm not sure how much longer we can hold on against all of the big chains."

There was an awkward silence until Linda spoke. "So, wretched weather we're having isn't it?"

"Oh yeah," I added catching on to the fact that Mr. Prince didn't want to talk business. "This morning, the wind broke off a branch and it landed on one of the tents. It was a mess."

"Oh, how frightening," Linda replied.

"Yeah," I said slowly. The conversation went back into uncomfortable silence.

"Linda," Mom started. "How long are you guys in town for? Just the day?"

"Yes," Linda replied. "Thought we would come out and see the art festival and later tonight we're going to catch a movie."

"That new one," Roger said. "The romantic comedy with Jack Black and Cloris Leachman. Linda likes Jack Black."

"Fun fact," Jim said with a smile on his face. "Nicole Kidman was originally going to have Cloris Leachman's part. But at the last minute, she pulled out so they rewrote the part to fit Leeahman."

"Well, that's great for her to step in," Mom commented. "And for the writers to be so gutsy as to have Leechman opposite Jack Black. I've always thought she was a wonderful actress, I'm glad the filmmakers have some taste."

"Cloris Leachman is too old," Dad scoffed. "How could you ever think she could ever replace the beautiful Nicole Kidman?"

"Well, beauty is subjective," Jim interjected attempting to be diplomatic. "And both are great actresses, so-"

Neither of my parents paid him any attention. "You are so shallow," Mom argued. "Just like that, out with the old and in with the new."

"Stop trying to make this about something that it isn't," Dad argued back. "So I prefer one actress to another, it's nothing personal."

"It is personal," Mom said, her voice rising.

"Mom, calm down," I pleaded.

"Don't tell me what to do," she scolded me. "And maybe if your father acted as if he actually enjoyed having me around, I wouldn't be so defensive all the time?"

Dad began to get angry. "How can I stand it with you nagging me all the time."

"Oh, I do not nag you all the time."

"You do too!" Dad said. "Bill, do this. Bill, why aren't you doing this? Bill, don't forget to eat your vegetables. I'm not twelve, Helene, stop treating me like I am."

"I don't treat you like you're twelve," Mom shot back.

"You do too!"

"Well, you're acting like it!"

I gave Jim an apologetic look. He understood and underneath the table, he grabbed my hand for comfort. Mom and Dad continued to argue for some time and when they settled into an unresolved silence, no one had noticed that the Princes had left.

"What?"

"Uh," I bit my lip.

"You look like you want to ask me to do something that I'm not going to want to do."

"Possibly," I said slowly. Mom and Dad had finished their lunch and were a few feet away from Jim and I, staring at some of the artwork. They were still making it as awkward as possible to be around and I wasn't sure how much longer I could handle it. So, I had pulled Jim aside. "I was wondering if you could talk to my dad."

His eyebrows rose, not sure how to respond. "Uh, about what? You do know guys don't just sit around and talk about their feelings, right?"

"No, no," I said shuffling my feet. "You don't need to talk to him about my mom or anything, I just need to talk to my mom alone for a little bit. So, if you could take my dad, show him around, talk to him about sports, anything. I think they just need to be apart for a little bit."

Jim looked unsure. "Huh, didn't think I'd have to cozy up to your dad so quickly."

"You can take my mother if you'd prefer," I offered. "I'll talk to dad then."

Jim gave in. "Sure, I'll take your dad around the park or something."

I felt guilty. "If it's really that big of a deal, you don't have to, I really just want to talk with mom and see if I can understand what is going on."

"No, I get it," he assured me.

Jim and I approached my parents. "Hey, Mom," I began, "would you like to see a drawing I did for the show this year?"

"Sure, honey," Mom replied.

"I'd like to see it too," Dad added.

Jim jumped in. "Actually, Mr. Beesly, how would you like to see an excellent painting call Spontaneous Dental Hydroplosion?" Dad gave him an odd look. "Trust me, it's worth it." Jim guided Dad out of the tent.

"Don't think I don't know what you did," Mom said when we were alone. "Did you even do a drawing or was that made up, too?"

"Yes, Mom, there is a drawing." I sighed. "But I thought maybe you and I could talk as well, without Dad."

"I don't know what you're worried about, sweetheart," Mom said playing ignorant. "Your father and I are fine. This is just a rough patch."

"Is it?" I asked.

My mother gave me a stern look. "Are you going to show me this artwork of yours or not?"

I gave in and led my mother out of the tent and down the path to where my artwork was.

"So your new boyfriend seems nice enough," Mom said. I rolled my eyes at Mom's attempt to avoid the real issue. "Though, what's with the bruise around is eye? He doesn't get into fights does he? I'd be concerned if you got involved with anyone too violent."

I groaned. "Jim is not too violent, Mom," I assure her. "You can blame Roy for that."

"Roy!" Mom stopped in her tracks. "Oh, honey, he isn't still harassing you, is he?"

I shook my head. "He's not," I promised. "We worked it out and I think we've made our peace."

"Well that's good," Mom gave. "You know, I never did trust that guy. I'm so glad that you got out of that marriage. I couldn't bear to see you so unhappy. Jim, is he making you happy?"

I smiled. "Yeah, Mom, he makes me really happy."

"Just make sure he deserves you," Mom advised. "I don't want you to be making the same mistake twice."

"He's not a mistake. Jim is," I paused a moment to think about it but I wasn't sure there were words for how deeply I felt for Jim. "He's a very good guy."

Mom gave me the best smile she could muster. "Alright then."

We came up to the tent that held my artwork and I showed her a few other pieces, including the one that had won first place, before coming to mine. I hadn't shown her the piece before, despite showing Mom nearly everything I had done, because it was so personal and of me in the nude. But for some reason, I almost felt like it was important to see the drawing, to show her that I had come a long way from being the person I once was. And maybe to show her that every one can have another shot at being happy.

Mom studied the drawing when we got there, carefully looking it up and down, her lips pursed, no expression on her face. I thought at first that she didn't really know what to make of it. But then she turned to me giving me a proud smile.

"This is rather magnificent," she complimented. "I think this is the best thing I've ever seen you do."

"Thanks," I said proudly. "It won second prize at the art contest a few day ago."

"Really?" she said impressed. "Why didn't you call and tell me all about this?"

"I've been busy," I admitted. "But I'm showing you now."

"So, what inspired you to do this?"

"It was right after my divorce went though," I said. I never talked with Mom at length about my divorce. It was one of those things I had kept hidden in a box in my mind for a long time and only within the past week had I really been able to deal with it. "I was having a really hard time. I felt- lost all the time and, you know, separating from Roy. That was one of the best decisions I ever made. I shouldn't really regret things, but sometimes I wish I hadn't have ever married Roy. But afterwards, when it was over, I often wondered what do I do with my life now. Roy had been such a big part of who I was that I didn't know who I was without him. And this picture represents all of that."

She looked at me sadly. "Oh, sweetheart," she said, brushing some of my hair off my forehead. "No wonder you're getting premature wrinkles. You're completely stressed out. Are you sure this new relationship is good for you when you have so much else going on?"

"You completely missed the point," I said feeling a little frustrated. "I don't feel like this picture any more. I don't feel lost anymore. Maybe that's what I'm trying to tell you, Mom, is that even though I went through all of this bad stuff, for the first time, maybe ever, I feel like my life has direction again. And Jim has something to do with that. There is room for second chances. None of us really know what the future is going to bring."

She looked at me confused. "What are you trying to say, Pam?"

I let out a heavy breath. "You have to talk to Dad."

"No," she said firmly.

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "You can't avoid it forever. You can't keep on going like this. You and Dad never talk to each other about whatever it is that's the root of the problem. You've got to do something because right now, you're miserable and Dad's miserable and it's not fair to either of you to continue this."

She showed no signs of backing down. "I realize that you've had some rough times. As a mother, it tore my heart to see what you had to go through with Roy. But did I ever butt in and tell you it was a mistake? No, I didn't. Did I ever try to persuade you to make one decision or another? No, I let you live your life the way you wanted to. So, I would hope that you would respect me enough to let me live my own life."

"Mom, I'm not trying to tell you how to live your life," I argued. "Really, I'm not. But there is a serious issue that you need to deal with Dad. And honestly, even though I probably wouldn't have listened to it, I wish someone would have confronted me on the Roy issue earlier. It would have saved everyone else a lot of trouble. But that's not the point. What I'm trying to tell you is that no matter how hard it is, something good will eventually come out of it. I think you just need to talk with Dad and the two of you can work this out."

Mom looked extremely upset. "Well, thank you for explaining my relationship to me," she huffed. "I'm sorry that I am not as enlightened as you." I couldn't get a word in before she stormed out.

I called out to her as she left but Mom didn't look back. Dad and Jim happened to be close by and Mom went straight towards them, ignoring the fact that I hadn't wanted to end the conversation. When she reached them, she put on a fake smile, as if everything was going alright. I caught up to her a moment later.

"Well, Bill," Mom said trying to sound bright. "Pam's art is really lovely, and you should definitely see it at some point, but I'm feeling rather tired right now, so maybe we can come back some other time."

"Mom, come on-" I started.

"No, no," Mom insisted. "I think I've had enough for one day."

Dad was oddly quiet. "Helene, I think there's something we need to talk about."

"Yeah, sure," Mom said brushing him off. "We'll talk when we get home."

"I think we need to spend some time apart," Dad said abruptly.

"What?" Mom stared at him stunned.

I looked over to Jim. What the hell did you guys talk about? I wondered. He seemed to understand what I was thinking and looked back at me, shrugging and holding up his hands, as if he truly didn't understand where Dad's actions had come from.

"I think it's time that you and I sat down and talked," Dad continued. "And then maybe we should spend some time apart. I think it will do us both some good."

Mom looked speechless.

Just when I thought things couldn't possibly get worse, I heard shouts and screams coming from the distance. When I looked around, I noticed that everyone was running from the park in a crazed manner. I couldn't even fathom what was happening.

A few seconds passed and I saw Ryan running towards us, Kelly behind him, struggling to keep up. "Fire!" Ryan shouted at me. "There's a fire."

"This is the worst birthday ever," I heard Kelly scream as she ran past.

The four of us turned our heads. Sure enough, only a yard or so away, a large pillar of smoke emerged from what looked like the fortune telling machine that Michael had purchased at a ridiculously high rate. "Oh my god," I muttered, placing a hand to my mouth.

"I'm gonna call the fire department," Jim said, immediately retrieving his cell phone out of his pocket.

Angela was the next person to run past. "That stupid Michael Scott," she exclaimed. "I've got to save my cat!"

Instead of going away from the commotion, like everyone else was, I walked a few feet forward to get a better look. I thought I saw Michael near the fire, which thankfully contained only to the box at the moment.

"Michael!" I yelled, going closer. "What's going on? What happened?"

Michael had two large, metal pails and proceeded to dump the contents of which onto the fire. The water helped some, but the fire still raged. "Oh, Pam!" Michael shouted. "I'm glad you're here. You've got to help me."

"What did you do?" I said, standing there in disbelief.

"I didn't do anything," he wined. "I was just using the machine and poof, the wire caught on fire. I think something happened to the wire in the storm. I probably shouldn't have left it out."

"You think?" I screamed at Michael. All my frustration was coming out. "You shouldn't have bought the thing in the first place. It was a waste of money and now we're going to lose money by having to have everyone evacuate the park. What were you thinking? I have a half a mind to roast you in that fire myself."

I felt Jim's hand on my shoulder. "Pam, calm down," he said gently. "The fire trucks are already on their way. I wasn't the first one to make a call."

I tore away from him and placed my head in my hand. "This day just keeps getting worse and worse," I cried. "I just need-" but I wasn't sure what I needed. After a quick look at Jim, then at my parents, I took off running.

I kept running until I got to the bathrooms, opened the door in one swift motion and slammed the door shut. I held my hand up to the door for balance so that I could catch my breath, then I let out a very frustrated scream. The day had been such an emotional roller coaster that my head was spinning. I was feeling everything, sadness, anger, aggravation, insanity. I couldn't hold it in any longer and in an attempt to let some of it out, I kicked the nearby garbage can. It hurt. A lot more than I had expected it to, so I let out another cry, this one out of agony. I limped over to the metal bench against the far wall and sat down, took off my shoe, and began to rub my foot.

It hadn't occurred to me that there could have been people in the bathroom when I arrived, so when the far stall opened, I was surprised and a little embarrassed. But when I saw who it was, I felt a little more miserable than I had before. It was Karen. Calm, cool, and collected Karen, who probably hated me. And the last thing I really needed was to deal with someone who hated me. I groaned.

"Pam?" she asked. I was taken aback by the concern in her voice. She approached slowly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied dismissively but Karen didn't leave. Instead, she took a step closer.

"You don't seem fine." She still was hesitant in her approach but seemed to genuinely care about my mental state.

"Look," I began as I rubbed my foot, trying to make the pain go away. "I have had just, an awful day. I realize that you probably hate me, which is completely justifiable even if it bugs me when people hate me but you don't need to pretend you care."

A smile came over Karen's lips. "You think I hate you?"

I nodded, giving her a wide-eyed stare. "I stole your boyfriend," I said slowly. "If I were you, I'd probably hate me too."

Karen let out an amused laugh. "You didn't steal my boyfriend."

I felt my cheeks grow warm, feeling even more embarrassed than I had before. "No?"

"No," she assured me, taking a seat next to me. "And I definitely don't hate you."

"Really?" I felt something in my chest loosen up.

"Really," she said. "Jim and I were long over when he met you. I was just holding onto-" she let the sentence die. "Actually, if anything, I probably owe you an apology. I was pretty rude to you a couple of days ago and I really shouldn't have been. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Huh," I leaned back thoughtfully.

"Yeah, you know, I get it now," Karen continued, looking off into an unknown space. "I didn't, originally. When Jim told me that he had just met someone and everything changed, that made no sense to me, at all. But, uh something happened." A grin came over her face. "I had to go to this stupid play last night. And I was feeling miserable, so I went to this bar. Alone. Which I never do. And I'm sitting there, nursing my drink when this guy comes over. And, you know how it is in bars when all the guys think you're fair game just because you're alone?"

I nodded, but I wasn't sure. I had never been to a bar without Roy.

"Yeah," Karen continued. "So, I just thought it was some guy being obnoxious. And when I looked up, I saw the sweetest looking guy I had ever seen. And you know what he says to me? 'You know, I never do this, talk to girls in bars.' Of course, I think he's giving me a line but there was such sincerity to it that I believed him. He then introduced himself as Dan and told me that he was a dermatologist. Yeah, I know. He was there supporting some friend who had gotten dumped but apparently his friend had found some drunk girl and was making out with her in the bathroom. He said he saw me across the room and told me I looked so pretty that he would regret it if he didn't come talk to me. And I was really inclined to think that he was bluffing but he was so dorky in his approach that I had to believe it."

"Wow," I said, intrigued by her story.

"Yeah, I know," Karen said, sounding a little in disbelief herself. "But you know what the crazy thing is? We ended up talking all night long. We didn't get drunk or screw around. Just talked and it- It was nice. I never believed you could click with someone the moment you meet them. I always thought good relationships required a lot of hard work. But with Dan, it was just so easy to talk to him, you know?"

I smiled, sincerely happy for her. "I do," I said. "I don't know if this is too weird for you to hear, but that's how I felt when I first met Jim. Like it was the easiest thing in the world."

"I understand," Karen said. "And that's why I don't hate you. I still think Jim is a bit of a jerk for how he handled things. I don't think those some things are erased so easily. But I can't fault you for how you feel."

"Thank you," I said, giving her a hug to show things were good between us.

"So, are you going to tell me why you came in here screaming and kicking garbage cans?" she asked.

"Oh, right," I said, my cheeks flushing again. "It's just a culmination of everything. I've been up and down so much today that I feel like I'm going a little crazy. This whole festival has been a nightmare. Everything that can go wrong has and Michael, one of my coworkers started a fire. So I'm pretty sure we've lost all revenue for today. And to top everything off," I felt the sadness well up in me again. "I think my parents are going to get a divorce."

"Oh," Karen said slowly. "Pam, I'm so sorry. My parents got a divorce when I was seven. It's not easy."

"Yeah, and this whole thing is crazy," I admitted. "I mean, I just thought they were having some issues. Issues all couples go through. But I've been through a divorce myself, I know when it's not working and I didn't think my parents were at that point. I thought they would be able to work it out."

"Ah," Karen gave me a half smile. "You know, when we're younger, we all believe are parents are like these magical soul mates destined to be together or something. It's not until we're older that we realize they're real people and are human just like us. But that realization is never easy."

"Huh," I let out. I had never thought of it that way, though I didn't feel much better about the situation. "Yeah, you're right. You know, there's this one weird thing though," I paused. "No, it's probably stupid and I'm just over thinking everything."

Karen tilted her head. "What is it?"

"I don't know," I began. "Jim was talking with my dad before dad announced that he was separating with my mom. And I can't help wonder what it was Jim said to bring my dad to that conclusion. I mean, things have been going great with Jim so far. Wonderful, but it's only been a few days. There's this nagging thought in the back of my mind that it's too good to be true. And maybe because of my own failed marriage or the crumbling of my parent's that I'm even thinking this, but I can't help wonder if there's going to be a time that Jim's going to say something to me to make me think that it's not going to work out between us."

Karen began to laugh. "Oh Pam," she said. "First of all, you can't have that attitude going into the relationship or I guarantee it will fail. You don't know how it's going to turn out so definitely don't bet against it, especially if it's something you want to work out. Secondly, whatever conclusions your dad had, he probably already had long before he met Jim. And Jim-" she leaned back to think for a second. "The thing that you need to know about Jim is that if he cares about it, he will do everything in his power to fix it, even if it's a lost cause. And I think, if he even did talk to your dad, that he was just trying to help."

"Oh," I said feeling silly. "I guess there's still a lot I haven't learned about him yet. Obviously, you know him better."

"Maybe," she replied. "I do have the advantage of knowing him longer, but maybe not better. I always saw Jim as what he could be. I think you might see him as he his and I think that's the better perspective."

"Yeah," I said believing that Karen was probably correct in her assessment. "You're right, he was probably trying help. Haven't really known him not to try and help."

"Of course," Karen said. "Because even after a few days, he probably knows how much your parents mean to you. Because you mean so much to him. And believe me, you mean a lot to him. I mean, I've known him for five, six years now and I've never heard him raise his voice, let alone get in a fight with someone. And I've never seen him exhibit an interest in art or anything that wasn't related to sports and video games."

I let out a laugh. "Thank you, Karen," I said feeling immensely better. "Really, thank you so much for everything. You really are a nice person."

"You're not so bad yourself," she said. "So are we good here, now?"

I nodded and smile. "Yeah," I replied standing up with her.

"Alright, then," Karen said. "Hopefully Michael hasn't completely shut down the festival, I'm meeting Dan here in a little bit." There was a glow about her as she spoke of him.

"Well, I hope you have fun," I said as we headed out of the bathroom.

"You too," she said. We said our goodbyes and headed off in different directions.

I found Dad waiting not too far away by a tree. Jim was standing behind him, pacing nervously.

"Pam," Dad said coming closer. Jim stopped pacing but was hesitant about coming closer. "Are you alright?"

"I think so," I told him. I noticed Mom wasn't around. "Where did Mom go?"

"She's in the car waiting," Dad answered. "She's rather upset right now, understandably."

"Understandably," I repeated.

Dad grabbed on to both of my hands. "Pam, I just want you to know that this thing with your mother, it has nothing to do with you. Or your sister. Or anyone but the two of us." He glanced over at Jim who was anxiously waiting but kept a respectful distance. "You know, he's really a good guy. Much better than Roy." He laughed a little. "Do you know what he said to me?"

I shook my head. "What'd he say?"

"He told me that every room lights up when you walk into it," he said. "That you inspire him to be so much better than he is. That you are the most amazing person he has ever met in his life. He said he never knew it was possible to care about someone so much. And he suggested that I try to regain that same feeling with your mom because he felt that along the way it probably was lost in the craziness of life. But you know what I realized just then? The way he spoke about you, what I saw in his eyes, heard in his voice? I'm not sure how to tell you this but I don't believe I've ever felt that strongly about your mother. Not even at our best. You lucky sweetheart, to find someone who cares that much."

I was speechless and a little in awe of what I was hearing. I wasn't sure if my heart was full from hearing what Jim really thought or if it was breaking for my father. I began to tear up. "Oh, daddy," I said giving him a hug.

"Just know that I love you," Dad said. "No matter what happens."

"I love you too," I said.

Dad let me go to wave Jim over. "Take care of her," Dad said as Jim approached.

"I will," Jim responded.

"I'll give you call soon," he told me and with one last hug, he headed towards the parking lot.

Jim and I turned towards each other. "You okay?" he finally asked.

I couldn't help that I was teary eyed or that I was feeling a million different things but I knew I would be okay. I nodded slightly before giving him a big embrace. Jim wrapped his arms around me and suddenly I felt warm and safe.

"I should have taken the day off like I wanted to," I said snuggling into his shirt.

Jim rested his head on top of mine. "Yeah…"

"I mean it wouldn't have stopped my parent's issues," I continued. "And this festival would still suck."

"It doesn't suck."

"Yeah, it does," I said. "But I think I'm just learning that it's not all my fault nor can I control it. And it doesn't matter anyway because the museum is probably going to get shut down due to lack of funds or from sheer insanity of its staff."

"Oh, the fire department came while you were in the bathroom," Jim informed me. "Everything's taken care of. Not much damage, except the fortune telling machine which is no a pile of rubbish."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

"What is it with my coworkers burning things down?" I asked. I was suddenly beginning to see the humor of the situation. "Or just being down right crazy?"

"Just the way it is sometimes."

"Hey, Jim?"

"Yeah?"

"If I lose my job, can I come stay with you?"

"Of course."

I pulled away from him slightly but not enough to break our embrace. "You're amazing, you know that?"

"I know," he said, leaning down to give me a gentle kiss.

"Do you believe in soul mates?" I asked.

He thought about it for a moment. "Not really," he answered. "I don't think I believe that things are destined to happen. I do believe, however, that if you find something worth living for, you don't let it go."

I felt a warm, tingling sensation flow through me and I snuggled back into Jim, wrapping myself tighter around him, not ever wanting to let go. Maybe I didn't believe in soul mates myself but I did like to think that someday my kids would feel their parents were destined to be together. I smiled, feeling optimistic about the future for the first time in a long time.


	27. Trouble

**AN:** Hey guys, I'm going to be honest here, the lack of feedback has been a little discouraging. Anyone still reading out there? Anyway, for those of you who are, thanks for reading, hope you like this one!

* * *

The fire had been put out, the commotion died down and within an hour, every thing was back to normal again. There wasn't much left of the fortuneteller machine except for a pile of ashes and the mangled remains of the mannequin inside. Angela was so disgusted with it that she found a tarp and placed it over the junk pile until it could be cleared away. I really should have been the one to help clean up the mess, but with everything else that had happened that day, I figured someone else could worry about it.

Instead, Jim and I walked around the park, hand in hand, chatting and talking about art, life, and anything that came into our heads. After a couple of hours had passed, not only was there a nice crowd back at the festival again but also I felt relaxed and at ease being able to spend alone time with Jim.

Jim didn't ask about my parents after they left, noticing the fact that I didn't want to discuss it. Nothing was going to be able to change the situation so I felt dwelling on the it wouldn't do any good. We also didn't talk about work and I was grateful that in those few hours, nothing bad seemed to happen. In fact, I barely saw my coworkers as we slowly made our way around the park. If there had been an issue, I wasn't aware of it nor did I care. It was nice to see the festival as a regular person instead of one of the employees and for a moment, I remembered why I liked coming to the festival in the first place.

At one point, we saw Karen with her new boyfriend off in the distance. I was amused at the fact that he looked similar to Jim, same tall thin build, same dark hair and dorky grin. But she looked wonderfully happy, so even if she did have a type, I was grateful that she had found someone who made her feel like I did with Jim.

"Want to go say hi?" I asked Jim I said pointing her out.

His face paled. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

I laughed. "I'm not serious. I know how uncomfortable that would be."

"Who's the guy," Jim said looking genuinely interested and surprised to see her with someone.

"Oh, that's her new boyfriend, Dan," I explained. "They met at a bar last night."

"How do you know this?" he asked.

"I'm omniscient," I joked. For a second, he looked as though he believed me. "No, actually Karen was in the bathroom when I ran in there when my parents were here. She told me about her new boyfriend and how amazing it was to find him. She says she's really happy, in a way she didn't know she could be."

Jim was strangely quiet and watched Karen and Dan giggle at each other in the distance. "Huh," he said.

"What?" I asked. "You almost seem disappointed that she still isn't upset."

"Oh, no," Jim replied quickly. "I think I'm relieved."

"So," I said with a playful grin. "Do you want to know what she said about you?"

"No," Jim responded automatically.

"You're not even a little bit curious?"

"Why are you all of sudden sadistic?" he asked. "I'd rather not know how much my ex-girlfriend despises me."

"She doesn't," I said. Jim gave me a disbelieving look. "She'll never admit it to your face, but she still thinks you're a good guy. Just not the right one."

Jim was a little perplexed. "That doesn't sound like Karen. Karen usually sounds like she wants to rip my head off."

I shrugged my shoulders. "It's what she said."

"Come on," Jim said, pulling my hand, leading me away from Karen. "I think we've had enough of old baggage for one day."

Ten or so minutes later, Jim had to use the bathroom, so we made our way back up to the restrooms. As I waited for him, I stood near the doorway, reading some of the flyers that lined the outside wall. There were a dozen for a blood drive that happened two weeks ago mixed in with brightly colored dating service ads. I noticed one of the dating ads at the bottom had a scrawled on it in pen 'For a good time call Lynne' with a phone number added. Near the base of the wall was a mound of dirt and I chuckled to myself, remembering that this was where Michael and I had the bird funeral.

A moment later, Jim came out. I was about to tell him about the dead bird but I noticed he was looking as white as a ghost. "Are you okay?" I asked.

"I, uh," he started, not able to talk. "So, I, uh, was standing at a urinal, minding my own business and I hear this dude grunting from one of the stalls. I'm like, oh, man, that must suck, whatever he ate. But then, I notice there's female grunting as well. So, I looked over and the entire stall was shaking and I could see two pairs of very gross looking bare legs. And I wanted to just get out of there but I couldn't because I was, you know, relieving my- nope, bad choice of words."

"Oh my god," I said, not sure whether to laugh or be horrified. "Some one was doing it in the bathroom."

Jim still looked traumatized. "No," he said shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure they're done now."

"Oh, ew," I said shuddering. "Ew, ew, ew."

"I know!" Jim exclaimed. "Don't they know just how disgusting public restrooms are? Not to mention the poor people that just want to use the bathroom and end up having to endure…that?"

A few seconds later, out of nowhere, Phyllis approached with her boyfriend Bob Vance. They were both looking disheveled and sweaty, though neither seemed to care that the only direction they could have come from was the men's bathroom. Jim and I exchanged awestruck looks.

"Why, hello, Pam, Jim," Phyllis said in her usual normal sweet tone though she was notably out of breath.

"Uh, hey Phyllis," my voice was a little too high.

"You remember my boyfriend, Bob Vance, right?" she asked. I nodded, not sure what to say. She looked up at Bob. "Bob, I know you remember Pam. This is her new boyfriend, Jim. He's a reporter."

"Howdy, Jim," Bob said holding out his hand. Jim shook it and I noticed him grimace through his smile, then wipe his hand on his jeans. Bob looked so giddy that he didn't pick up on anything.

Phyllis's face lit up brighter than it already had been. "Oh, Bobby, I have a great idea, why don't we invite Pam and Jim out for dinner some night?"

"That would be just lovely," Bob replied.

They booth looked at us eagerly. We both gaped, neither of us unable to really say what we were thinking. "Um," I nodded my head trying to come up some way to decline the invitation. "Sure, that would be nice." Jim's eyes grew wide when he heard me say that and he subtly tried to shake his head that he was against the idea.

"What about bowling?" Bob suggested. "Everyone loves bowling, right?"

"Everyone loves bowling," Jim muttered nervously.

"Great," Phyllis beamed. "We'll have to set a date. Oh and Pam, I'm glad I ran into you. I just saw David Wallace and he'd like to have another staff meeting at three, so we probably should head over there."

"Yeah, sure," I said, grateful that Jim and I had a reason depart this awkward conversation.

Bob and Phyllis took off first, Jim and I remained a few feet behind. Not two minutes later, we both saw Bob reach down and grab Phyllis's butt. "Oh, Bob," she cried.

I shuddered. "Oh, I didn't want to see that."

"Well, be happy you didn't have to witness the whole show," Jim came back.

"It's not like you saw anything."

"Oh, but I heard it," Jim said shaking his head. "And that will forever be in my nightmares."

"So, are you sure that this okay?" Jim asked as we approached the tent. "No one's going to ask why I'm there?"

"It'll be fine," I assured him. I wasn't entirely sure why he was feeling reluctant about it. "It's just a staff meeting, it's not like it's a top secret government project we're discussing. It will probably be boring and only last five minutes."

"Okay," Jim said with a half smile. "I just don't want to intrude or anything."

"Believe me," I said. "No one will notice you're there. I doubt anyone will notice I'm there."

Jim looked more at ease when we entered the tent.

Michael was waiting just inside the tent, a giddy grin on his face. "Pam, Pam, guess what?" he asked, incredibly excited.

His anxiousness put me on guard. "What Michael?" I asked.

"I have got a brilliant idea," he giggled. "You may even say that it is a golden ticket idea."

I looked up at Jim; this was going to be interesting. Michael danced around impatiently waiting for me to ask him what his grand idea was. "Okay, Michael, what is your idea?"

"So, you know how I love Holly and I think that she is the woman of my dreams?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yes."

"Well, I found the perfect way to ask her out," Michael said.

"I thought you already tried that," I said carefully.

"No, no, no," Michael said. "This is a more perfecter way, where she has to ask me out."

"Alright, what's your idea?"

"So, you know the movie Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, right?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Well, I do what they did in that movie."

"You're going to give her a tour of a candy factory?" Jim asked.

Michael scrunched his nose at Jim. "No, no one asked you. Okay, I give her a box of chocolates. When she opens the chocolates, she finds a golden ticket. On the ticket are instructions to redeem it at a nice restaurant. So, she goes to the restaurant to redeem her prize and the prize is me sitting there ready to go on a date with her."

Jim and I both looked at him stunned. "I don't know Michael."

"Um, what's the situation?" Jim asked me.

"Michael likes Holly but she needs space because she just broke up with her boyfriend," I explained.

"Ah," Jim said. "Yeah, Michael, I'm not sure bribing her is the best way to get a date."

"Bribing her?" Michael said perplexed. "No, Jim, there will be no exchange of money. I don't understand why you aren't more on board with this? Did I tell you not to ask out Pam when you first met her even though it was obvious that she wasn't into you?"

"Michael, what are you talking about?" I asked.

Michael ignored me. "No, I said go for it. So, all I'm saying is that I would like the same support that I gave you. And you just watched, the golden ticket idea will work."

"Okay, first of all, Pam was interested," Jim explained. "Or else we wouldn't be dating right now."

"Well, that's questionable…" Michael mumbled.

I shook my head to let Jim know that it'd be impossible to try to argue the point.

Jim continued. "And secondly, if Holly said she needed her space, I think you need to respect that. Maybe you should work on your friendship first, really get to know her. Then, sometime down the road, maybe after a few months or so, you can ask her out, when you know she's really interested."

"Well, I'm not sure if you need to wait months," I cut in. Jim gave me a funny look but I waved him off. "But you do need to give her time, especially if this was a big relationship she was coming from. She's going to need time to get over it and I don't think pushing yourself on her is the best way to get her to go out with you."

"Besides," Jim added. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to be friends first."

"I don't want to be friends first," Michael whined. "I want to be lovers first, and then we can be friends."

"I kind of think the idea is sweet," Phyllis, who had been standing only a foot away the whole time, chimed in. "Maybe you should do what Bob did and buy her some nice jewelry, a fancy necklace or earrings." Phyllis played with the gaudy diamond necklace around her neck.

"Or a ring," Michael exclaimed getting excited. "I could put it in a Cracker Jacks box-"

"No," I quickly interrupted. "Michael, do not buy her a ring."

"You're just jealous, Pam," Michael scoffed.

"No," I said shaking my head. "Not jealous. Just looking out for your best interests."

"Well, you should know that my best interests are asking Holly out," Michael came back with.

I let out a sigh. Oscar walked up to our little group. "What's going on?" he asked. I quickly filled him in on Michael wanting to ask out Holly. "Michael, are you sure you want to take another gamble like that?"

Michael looked at Oscar strangely. "It's never a gamble when it comes to one's heart."

Oscar shook his head. "No, I mean," he lowered his voice a little. "Holly's a board member. You were already involved with Jan, the director of the museum. If you keep this up, people are going to start thinking that the only reason that you're around is that you're involved with your superiors. If I were you, I'd be more concerned with job security. You really should be thinking about job security anyway now that Jan is gone."

"No, stop it," Michael snapped. "I'm not worried about my job. And what do you know? I've never seen you with any girl."

Oscar looked at me nervously, so I changed the subject. "What I think Oscar is getting at is that you should probably be more concerned with your career than your love life at this point," I explained to him.

Before Michael could respond, Kelly and Ryan walked up. "What's going on?" Kelly asked. Michael rehashed his golden ticket idea.

"Oh, Michael that is so romantic," Kelly cooed. "You should totally do it, she'll love it. She'll fall in love with you, like, right away. It totally reminds me of this one movie I saw where-"

"Romance is overrated, man," Ryan said, stepping over Kelly's words. "Just kidnap her."

"What?" I gave Ryan an astounded look. "Ryan, that's insane."

"How?" Ryan challenged. "He'll get to be with her all the time, eventually the Stockholm syndrome will kick in, and he'll be all set." We all stared at him blankly, each of us with shocked looks on our faces. "What?"

We then all began to talk at once, each of us shouting our own opinion over the other until Michael put his fingers in his ears and began to state, very loudly, that he didn't want to listen to any of us and insisted that his golden ticket idea was a sure thing.

"What is going on here?" Angela's voice piped up. I didn't know how long she had been standing there.

"We're discussing Michael's love life," Kelly told her.

Angela gave a disgusted look. "I do not understand why you all are obsessed with each other's love lives. I like to keep my affairs private."

"Angela, two men were going to have a public duel over you," I reminded her.

Angela held her nose in the air. "I do not wish to talk about that, it's private."

Thankfully, we didn't have to continue the ridiculous discussion because David Wallace entered the tent. Alex was right behind him and when he saw me, he gave me a frown.

"That the assistant?" Jim asked, whispering into my ear. I nodded. "Alright then, good to know," he said slipping his arm around my shoulders.

I gave him a smirk. "Someone's acting a little possessive."

"Does that bother you?"

"Nope," I gave simply. I wasn't sure if I should admit it to him or not but I found it a little hot.

It began to rain again. There was a soft patter on the tent and I couldn't help but hope that it would soon pass so the rest of the evening's festivities could continue as planned. The end of the week's events always had more people in attendance then the rest of the festival combined and we couldn't afford to lose that.

I'll admit my mind wandered to various things as David Wallace stood at the front giving his speech. He was stalling and I wasn't sure why he would call a meeting if he was going to talk about nothing for ten minutes. That wasn't usually his style. While David was droning on about some personal incident, a very large, professional and somewhat intimidating man entered the tent. He didn't look at any of us, instead made his way up to David's side. David stopped talking to greet him.

"Everyone," David started. The purpose of this meeting was beginning to click. "This is Charles Minor. He is our new temporary replacement for Jan." I believe David expected everyone to clap but we all sat there in shock that he had found someone so quickly. "I'll let Charles introduce himself," David said, switching places with the other man.

"Hello, employees of SIA," Charles started, his voice loud and authoritative. "I am Charles and I will be your new director. My last post was director of Scranton's Natural Science museum in which I helped them raise over a million dollars for their dinosaur exhibit. The position may only be temporary but I hope that I can impress all of you enough to keep me on board long term. Thank you David."

David smiled. "Alright everyone, I'm going to let you get acquainted with Charles. I actually have an appointment I have to be at so unfortunately I can't stay. Have a great night." David waved to us before heading out.

"Our new boss is so hot," I heard Kelly whisper. She was sitting across from where Jim and I were standing in the back of the tent.

I expected Angela, who was sitting next to her, to scoff at the comment but instead Angela looked just as taken as Kelly did. "Yes," Angela agreed. "He is quite nice to look at."

"First of all," Charles started. "I'd like to say that I am buying dinner for everyone tonight." There was general approval around the room. "Because I feel that tonight we should start putting together our goals for the future of the museum. And it may be a long evening."

"What about the disco party?" Michael asked.

"Oh," Charles said with a shrug. "How many of you are really needed to watch that? I'm sure park security can cover it. I need you all here. Besides, if it's raining, the festival will be shut down anyway. No need to worry."

Michael, however, pouted at the news.

"As I was saying," Charles continued. "I believe that drastic measures will have to be made to turn this museum around. I am aware of how it was run in the past, inefficiently."

"Do you have any specific plans?" Oscar asked.

"I do," Charles said. "We need to cut spending across the board. Tighten up our budget. Reach out to people in a more efficient way, find out what they would like to see improved in our museum and use that as a goal. But mostly, we're going to get rid of waste. No more frivolous spending on things that we don't need, such as staff parties, which, when I looked at the books, took up a lot of unnecessary time and money."

"You can take those away," Michael called out, rather angrily.

Charles looked at him annoyed. "What's your name?"

"Michael," he called out. "My name is Michael and you can't take our fun away."

"Well, Michael," Charles continued. "I assure you I'm not trying to take your fun away."

"What about the museum's fifteen anniversary bash?" he asked. "Are you going to take that away too?"

Charles didn't look like he knew what Michael was talking about. "Fifteen? I thought the museum had been around longer then that."

It had but fifteen years ago, we moved into our new building, which was what Michael was referring to. I wasn't aware that the museum was even going to do something special for fifteen years at the new building but Michael sometimes knew more of what Jan had been planning.

"It was going to be huge," Michael went on, ignoring Charles's statement. "The best party this town has ever seen."

"Well, maybe we can get a special exhibit up instead," Charles suggested. "Or maybe a nice banquet. I don't think fifteen years constitutes for an all out party."

"This is horrible," Michael complained loudly for Charles to hear.

"Another thing I would like to address is professionalism in the work place," Charles said doing his best to ignore Michael. "I am aware that Ms. Levinson was a little bit looser about certain things but we are a professional organization, we need to act like one. You, sir," he pointed directly to Jim, who looked horrified at being singled out. "What's your name?"

"Uh, Jim," Jim responded.

"Jim, do you realize that you are incredibly underdressed for this meeting?"

Jim looked at me for an answer but I wasn't sure what to say. "Oh, I, uh, I don't work here," Jim stuttered.

Charles looked at him oddly. "You don't work for the museum? Are you part of the park staff?"

Jim shook his head. "N-no, I'm from the Scranton Times."

Charles's eyebrows rose. "A reporter?"

"He's with me," I jumped in. "Pam Beesly, public relations.

"And is it always custom for you to invite the press to closed meetings, Ms. Beesly?" Charles asked.

"No," I titled my head unsure of what to say. "I just let Jim come with me because we're- we're together and I didn't think this would take that long."

"So, you think that people with personal relationships with you should have certain entitlements?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No, it's not like that."

Charles ignored me. "Jim, I'm sorry, but I think I have to ask you to leave."

Jim opened his mouth to protest but then thought better of it. He gave me an I-told-you-so look. "I'll see you later, I guess," he muttered to me as he left.

"I'm sorry," I called after him, feeling incredibly guilty.

"Alright then," Charles said. "Anyone else here that shouldn't be?" No on answered. "Okay, moving on. I will require everyone to look their best at any museum function or meeting. Also-"

"Why don't you just change everything," Michael shouted.

Charles looked at him stunned. "I don't mean to change everything Michael, but these new rules will help the museum function better."

"Better?" Michael said. "I don't think you're going to make it better, you're making it worse, much worse. The museum ran just fine without you here."

There was an awkward pause as we all shifted nervously around. Charles finally spoke. "You know what, Michael? I am getting tired of your outbursts. I think you need to rein it in a little."

"Well, I'm tired of you," Michael shouted.

"You know what, Michael," Charles said still rather calm. "Maybe it's time we let you go."

"You can't do that," Michael said standing up. "Because I quit!"

Everyone watched Michael leave but I doubt any of us were really surprised by his actions. There had been a lot of talk over the years that Jan would finally kick Michael out and I often wondered if the presence of a new director would do the job for her. The only thing we were really taken aback by was Michael quitting. He left, clumsily and nosily, as we all waited patiently to go on. As soon as he was gone, Charles Minor continued with his plans.

Not even five minutes later, Michael was back, crawling on the ground so that Charles couldn't see him, drenched due to the rain outside. He came beside me and curled up by my feet. "What are you doing?" I hissed at him.

"It's cold and wet out there," Michael whimpered. "And I don't have any where else to go."

"Well, I'm sorry Michael," I said. "You can't stay here."

"Yeah, I can," Michael said. "At least until it stops raining."

"Is Jim out there?" I asked, wanting to know where he decided to go after he left.

"I didn't see him," Michael said. "You don't know need to worry about Jim, you need to worry about me."

"Michael, go," I said, having half a mind to kick him.

"Come with me," he begged.

"No," I replied."

"Please."

"Michael!"

Michael still whimpered but I decided to ignore him because Charles had started talking about the festival and I wanted to hear what he was saying.

"…so it may be in best interests for the museum as a whole," Charles was saying. "If we not only put plans of the new wing on hold but also not have a festival next year."

There was immediate murmuring around the room. "That's crazy," I said loud enough for Charles to hear.

"You have an issue with that plan?" Charles asked me.

"Well, yeah," I said. "The festival has been a staple of Scranton longer than I've been around. It would be a disservice to the community if we took it away."

"I realize the implications of that," Charles said. "But I really think we should look at this next fiscal year as a rebuilding year."

"Yeah, but there's no reason we can't still host the festival," I argued. "Maybe we could tie in a theme of rebuilding into the festival next year and generate plenty of interest-"

"I think this is something we can discuss in depth later," Charles cut me off. "Now, what ideas did we have for fundraising?"

Phyllis spoke up. "Well, earlier we were talking about an auction, getting local galleries to donate art to auction off. We could always auction off other things as well, get involvement with other businesses."

"Great," Charles said. "That may work. Who usually puts this stuff together?"

I rose my hand. "That is what my job is," I said.

"I thought you were public relations?" Charles asked confused. "The museum doesn't have it's own events coordinator?"

"I usually do both," I explained. It never occurred to me that the position was actually two. "I've always done the duties of public relations and of the events coordinator. Does there really need to be another person involved? Especially if the museum does need to cut back on things, wouldn't hiring someone new be wasteful?"

Charles shook his head. "In this case, I'd like to bring in someone I know I can count on."

"You don't think you can count on me?" I asked feeling hurt. He didn't know me, how could he even think that?

"I haven't had a chance to work with you yet," Charles corrected. "I would just like to get someone in that I already know. Besides, Ms. Beesly, you are a pretty girl and I think you should stick to what you do best, talking with the press, though, preferably not press you are involved with."

I felt incredibly insulted. "I can do more than just talk to the press," I argued.

Michael got to his knees. "See, he doesn't respect you, he doesn't respect any of us." I wasn't sure why, but Michael was beginning to make more sense.

"I'm sure you can," Charles said though he looked annoyed over the whole thing. "But for now, I'd like to play it safe."

"Maybe you should trust that your employees know what they're doing," I argued still feeling the sting of being called just a pretty face. "I have more to offer then you think."

"Well, maybe over time you'll prove that," Charles said.

"I don't need to prove anything," I shot back. "I don't need-" I stopped mid-sentence. A strange sensation flowed through me, one of empowerment. I didn't need to be treated like this, none of us did. We deserved respect. Charles stared at me, waiting for me to complete my thought. "No, I don't need this," I finally said. "You know what, if this is how we're going to be treated then-" I felt a rush of nerves as everyone stared at me. "Then, I quit too!"

Michael stood up excitedly. "So screw all of you," he added.

"Come on, Michael, let's go," I said. Michael and I left the tent. I held my head high but chose not to look anyone in the eye fearing my resolve might break. I let out a breath of relief once Michael and I were outside but then the reality of what I had just done set in. The rain pattered down on my head, making me shiver. I stared at Michael blankly.

Now what?


	28. Hand in My Pocket

**AN: **Thanks so much for everyone who read and reviewed. I appreciate hearing from you guys so much! Hope you like the next one, we're almost done here with day five.

* * *

Michael and I stared at each other, the rain pouring down on our heads, neither of us sure what to do next. Michael tilted his head at me. "Well, I think we should probably get out of the rain," he finally said.

I nodded. "Yup."

We began to walk towards the tent that held our personal belongings when I heard another voice behind us.

"Hey, guys, wait up," Ryan jogged up. "I'm coming with you."

Michael grinned ecstatically. "Ryan!"

I, however, gave him a skeptical look. "What, does Charles have a message for us or something?"

"No," Ryan said astounded that I even suggested that. "No, I quit too. It was time. I mean, I have a master's degree in art history that is not being used to its full potential. And, I thought, you know now's the time to go off and see the world. Maybe I'll go to Thailand. Or Fort Lauderdale. But I am free now and that's the important part."

"Did you quit just so you could get away from Kelly?" I asked.

"Don't judge me, Pam," Ryan said. "You quit too."

"Yeah, but for good reason," I shot back.

Ryan rolled his eyes at me.

"I think Ryan is right," Michael agreed. "We are now free. Free to do anything we want in the world. Whatever we want. Only, I'm going to need more money to do it. I have some in my savings. Maybe I should sell my condo, but where would I live?" Ryan and I exchanged looks as Michael continued to ramble. "I could always live in my car. But how would I pay for gas. Oh, I'm going to have to sell my Sebring and live in a box. Oh my god, what did I do!"

Michael was beginning to freak out, pacing back and forth screaming 'oh god!' repeatedly.

"Michael, it's going to be alright," I said in a comforting voice.

"It's not going to be alright," Michael cried. "I quit my job, Pam. What am I supposed to do? I'm not qualified to do anything else. I'm going to be a homeless person. A homeless person with a nice car but that's not the point."

"Come on, Michael," I said placing an arm around his shoulders. "Let's get you inside. Hey, Ryan, are you coming with us?"

Ryan, who had completely ignored Michael's melt down, was playing with a discarded, old soccer ball. He shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, why not," he said, continuing to concentrated on playing with the ball as we made our way to a tent.

Once inside, I gave Michael one of the blankets we usually place over the art at night so he cold warm up. He still hadn't calmed down.

"Michael, look, it's not the end of the world," I said. "You know, we can take the day off, collect ourselves and then look at this as an opportunity presented to us. I'll even help you. We'll make a list of places that you and I could possibly work at and then go through and figure out what we want to do. See? It's not that bad."

Michael nodded, though he still whimpered. "Okay, Pam, if you say it's going to be alright, then maybe it will be."

I patted him on the back. "Of course it will be. This it the opportunity to do anything you want. Is there anything you've ever wanted to do?"

"I could be a stand-up comedian," Michael said a little less weary than he had been before. "People are always laughing at me."

I nodded encouragingly but didn't think that was his best choice of career path. "I was thinking maybe something that would use more of the skills you've obtained with your past jobs. Like…" my voice trailed off trying hard to think of a job that Michael would actually be good at.

"You know what we should do," Ryan said, keeping his eyes on the ball he was kicking. "Start a strip club."

"Ew, Ryan, no," I said scrunching my nose.

Michael's eyes grew wide. "Yeah, or a bowling alley. I've always loved bowling."

"Or, a strip club slash bowling alley," Ryan suggested.

I looked at Ryan in disbelief. "That is a stupid idea."

"It's a brilliant idea," Ryan argued. He kicked the ball hard at me and before I could react, it hit my shin. I felt a tingle of pain up and down my leg.

"Really?" I said annoyed. "Was that necessary?"

Ryan shrugged, not caring.

"Oh, oh, I have an even better idea," Michael exclaimed. "We can start our own museum! We already know a ton of people who sell art and maybe we can get some of the pieces from SIA. I know I can get my grandmother to invest in our museum. Pam, you're an artist, you display some of your art. You can have your own little section."

"I think it's a great idea, Michael," Ryan agreed. "We should do that."

I let out a little sigh and shook my head. "Yeah, I don't think it works like that."

While Ryan and Michael began discussing various ideas for their new museum, I called Jim.

"Hey, where are you?" I asked. "Are you still at the festival somewhere?"

"I am in my car going to get some dinner," Jim replied. "Why, are you finally out of that horrible meeting?"

"Yeah," I grinned into my phone. "I mean the meeting is still going on but I am no longer a part of it."

There was a silence on the other end. "What happened?" he sounded concerned.

"I, uh, quit my job."

"Quit? Pam, is everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, everything's fine," I replied. "It's just that Charles is a sexist jerk. He told me all he wanted me to do is look pretty and say what he wanted to the press."

"Jerk," Jim agreed. "What? I can't believe he said that. Well good for you, standing up for your self."

"Thank you," I said. "There was no way I was going to stand being treated like that."

"Good for you," Jim said. "So, do you want me to bring you some dinner? My treat."

I paused. "I can pay you back, no big deal."

"Are you sure?" Jim asked. "Just thought— never mind, what would you like to eat?"

We hung up after dinner was figured out. But as I closed my phone the reality of having quit my job begin to settle in. When I lived with Roy, my whole life depended on him. I did have a job at the time, but Roy and his income governed every major life decision. And before that, it was my parents. I hated having to depend on someone else and these past six months had been liberating on so many levels. I knew that Jim was offering dinner one time and that he respected me enough to do things on my own. But now I had no income and not even an idea as to where to start to look for one.

"Oh, my god," I said feeling a little faint. Michael and Ryan stopped their discussion. "I can't do this."

"Do what?" Michael looked confused.

"I have to get my job back. I can't be without a job."

"Too late, sister," Ryan commented with a smirk.

"No, I have to get my job back," I said beginning to panic. "I mean, how am I supposed to pay rent? It's almost the end of the month and I don't have enough for it. And if I do go to Pratt, how am I supposed to pay for that? I don't want to rely on anyone else for money."

"But Charles is a meanie," Michael said. "There are better things than him. That's why we quit, right?"

I shook my head. "I could have handled it, right? At least until I found something that I could do. I'd still have an income. And health benefits. And a job I liked. Oh my god, I really liked my job. This is horrible, why did I do this? I'm never this impulsive. I was just pissed off. They shouldn't hold you accountable for when you're pissed off."

"Well, Pam," Michael said, unusually calm. "Like you said, this is now an opportunity for us. We'll find something better, you'll see. We'll sit down and make a list-"

"Screw lists," I muttered.

"Well, I don't think that you'll be able to get your job back," Michael said honestly. "Unless Charles is gone, you have to deal with the consequences of your actions."

An idea struck me. "Michael, that's it!

He looked confused but happy. "Yes, of course it is."

"You don't know what she's talking about," Ryan pointed out.

"True, but I inspired it," Michael said.

"No, listen, we can get our jobs back," I said wondering why I didn't think of this right off the bat. "All we have to do is get rid of Charles."

"Get rid of Charles," Michael grinned. "We should get rid of Charles!"

"I'm on board," Ryan said. "Let's do it."

"Alright guys," I said feeling good. "Let's get rid of Charles and get our jobs back."

* * *

"So, you guys are going to take on Charles Minor?" Jim asked. He had just arrived and was handing me my cheeseburger and fries as we explained to him the idea that we had come up with.

"Yeah," I said, nibbling on a few fries. "I mean, it was a little hasty to quit our jobs. But we shouldn't be the ones who have to leave."

"He should leave," Michael added. "We know this museum and who is he to change everything on us? Who is he to come boss us around."

"Yeah," Ryan added more so because he could.

Jim's eyes grew wide and he smiled. "Well, then, do you guys know what you're going to do?"

I exchanged an uneasy look with Michael. "Uh, we haven't exactly thought it out that far yet. We just know that we're going to take him down so that we can get our jobs back."

Jim chuckled. "Well, I'll tell you what. I will use my super skills as a reporter and get you a run down on the guy. See what kind of things I can dig up. I mean, everyone has a few skeletons in the closet, right?"

"Oh, Jim, you don't have to do that," I said, knowing it wasn't professional of him to help us out.

Jim gave a shrug. "Hey, what's the point of dating a reporter if you can't put it to use, right?"

I laughed. "Oh, right, I forgot why I was dating you."

"See, I told you," Ryan commented. "You know what we could do guys. Start a nasty rumor about Charles and get it into the press. Something that will totally take him down. Pam's already a media whore, so she can be the face of the rumor. The one that talks to the press."

"We're not going to spread lies and sink to low schemes, Ryan," I told him disgusted by his attitude. "And I'm not a media whore."

"Well, that can be debated-"

"So," Jim interrupted. "How do you guys usually pick your director, through the board right? Why don't you just talk to them about what's going on? Convince them that they shouldn't hire the guy. Little hassle and drama there."

"What's the point if there's no drama?" Ryan asked.

I scrunched my nose at him. "Wow, Ryan, that explains so much about you. Anyway, I think Jim's right. We have to talk to the board members and convince them that Charles is wrong for the museum. Alright, how should we start?"

"Holly," Michael said enthusiastically. "I know she'll be on our side."

"Alright," I said. "I also think we should get a hold of David Wallace right away, too, because-"

It wasn't the ringing of Ryan's cell phone that interrupted me. It was the fact that during the middle of my sentence, he flipped it open and began talking. "Yeah, hey, I'm not busy," he was saying to the person on the other line. "Yeah, I just quit my job. No biggie. We're going to take down the museum anyway. Serves them right."

I gave Jim an astounded look and he shrugged his shoulders not sure what to say. Even Michael looked annoyed. "Ryan!" I yelled. "If you don't want to be apart of this, you can leave."

Ryan placed a hand over the receiver. "Pam, please don't interrupt me when I'm on the phone."

I balled my fists, ready to punch him but I thought better of it and moved on. "So, Michael, do you happen to have David Wallace's contact information?"

"I have his personal cell number," Michael said, getting his phone out.

"How did you get his personal number?" I asked as Michael began scrolling down his contact list.

"Jan," he said simply. "I was her personal assistant, so I always had a direct connect to David Wallace."

"Oh my god," Jim exclaimed. His eyes were wide, a broad smile on his face. "I've got an idea, I-" he paused thinking it over. "I've got to go." He collected his things then gave me a swift kiss on the forehead. "I'll give you a call when I've got it, okay?"

"Okay," I said nodding, though I wasn't sure what Jim was thinking. Without another word, Jim rushed out of the tent leaving me alone with Ryan and Michael.

"Well, he sure is weird," Michael noted.

"Okay, okay," I said returning my attention to Michael. "David Wallace."

"Alright, I'll call him," Michael said holding the phone to his ear."

"Do you think I should do that?" I asked.

Michael waved his hand at me signifying that he would do the talking. "I'll do it, I'll do it," he said. "Hello, David Wallace, this is Michael Scott. It is very important that you call me back, I have an urgent matter to discuss with you." Michael hung up.

"Voice mail?" I asked disappointed.

"That was weird," Michael said. "It only rang once before I got his message. Usually it keeps ringing."

I groaned. "Do you have any other contacts?" I asked.

Michael shook his head. "Jan didn't like me to have contact with the board. I'm not sure why. I could always try David Wallace again."

"Why don't we just look them up in the company directory online?" Ryan suggested, even though he was still talking on the phone. "I have my laptop here, let me get it."

Despite the fact that Ryan was a major pain, I was glad we were making some headway. Ryan retrieved his laptop out of the bookbag he had brought, sat on the ground, and opened it up. But instead of actually looking anything up, he continued to tell crude stories to whomever he was talking to. Grumbling as I did so, I went to fetch the computer away from Ryan.

"Hey, this is my laptop, I will do it," Ryan insisted.

"You're not doing anything," I argued. "You're just sitting there talking on the phone."

"I'm waiting for the wireless to connect," Ryan said.

"The computer isn't even on," I pointed out.

I went to grab the computer but Ryan swatted me away and finally turned the thing on. Michael and I waited patiently as it looked like Ryan was actually focused on finding the list of board members.

After about five minutes of us waiting, Michael spoke. "Hey, do you ever wonder why we always get these tan tents?" he asked looking around. "Why don't they make them in bright pink or neon green?"

"Okay," I said having enough of it. "Ryan, give me the computer."

"No," he said pulling it away from me.

Ryan couldn't juggle the computer and his cell and I was able to snatch the computer out of his hands. "Ryan!" I cried in disbelief when I saw what was on the screen. "You're supposed to be going to the museum website, not looking at pictures of naked girls."

"Oohh, naked chicks?" Michael cooed and glanced over my shoulder interested.

Ryan didn't even defend himself, just rolled his eyes at me and went back to talking on his phone. I pulled up the museum website and easily found a contact list for the board members.

"Find Holly," Michael insisted.

I scrolled down but noticed that the list hadn't been updated in about three years. Holly wasn't on the list as well as a few others that had been recently elected.

"Looks like we're just going to have go down the list of who's still there," I commented. "Here, let's start with Russell Brown."

"Oh, Russell," Michael said. "He's a great guy. I'll give him a call." Michael began to dial the numbers on the screen.

"Maybe I should talk," I insisted but Michael waved my hand away.

"Hello, Russell, this is Michael Scott," Michael started sounding very business like. "What are you doing for dinner this evening…how about we meet for IHOP, I know they're having a discount tonight for…right…right…sure, we'll be right there." He closed the phone. "And that's that, we have to get over to IHOP. He's agreed to meet with us."

I looked excitedly at Michael. We were really going to do it. We were really bringing down Charles. In no time, the three of us were crammed into Michael's Sebring and headed down the street towards IHOP. Thankfully, the restaurant wasn't busy nor did it take very long for Russell to meet us there. Soon, Michael and Russell had ordered a very large dinner and were joking about life at the museum long before I had arrived.

I didn't eat anything, because Jim had brought my dinner earlier, I spent most of the meal trying to get Michael to focus on the topic we needed him to. Thankfully, Ryan was so invested in his texting that he sat off to the side mostly ignoring us.

"Yeah, so those were good times," Michael said digging into his pancakes.

"They really were," Russell said with a laugh.

I motioned for Michael to get on with it. "You know, Russell, Pam has some thoughts about the museum she'd like to share."

I hadn't anticipated being the one to talk to Russell, someone Michael knew more than I did, so I stared blankly at the man before I spoke. "Well, Russell, you know now that Jan is gone the museum is in a bit of a flux and a few of us," I motioned to Michael and Ryan, "are a little worried about the direction it's going in."

Russell frowned as he slathered his pancakes in syrup. "I have to agree with you there. Jan was always…questionable but she did her job. I think the museum needs a jump start in the right direction."

"Exactly," I said. "And I'm not so sure Charles Minor is the correct direction to take the museum in."

Russell stared at me, the syrup gushing out on to his plate. "What? Charles Minor? As in from the Natural History Museum."

I nodded. "Yes."

"What the hell is David thinking?" Russell said clearly upset, slamming the syrup bottle down. "I don't like that man's politics and I don't like what he's done to the NHM. Is he really in charge?"

"He's at the festival right now," I explained. I then retold what the meeting with Charles had been like, leaving out the part where Michael and I quit. The further I went, the more red-faced Russell became. "So, yeah, we were hoping that we could get enough board members to vote against him," I concluded.

"Well, you don't have to convince me," Russell said. "You have my vote against him and I'll talk to David my self about the situation."

I grinned, feeling giddy that we were making some progress. We only needed five of the board members to make the majority. One down, four more to go.

* * *

Not only did Russell let us know that he was on our side but as he and Michael finished their pancakes, Michael was able to get out of him contact information for the rest of the board, meaning we didn't have to go on a wild goose chase trying to find the rest of the members. We thanked him profusely and made sure he knew to come to the festival's disco party that was being held that night. He assured us he would and told us to give him a call if they needed anything else.

The first person Michael wanted to get a hold of was Holly. Even though I was a little skeptical about Michael contacting her, Holly seemed reasonable enough the few times I'd met her, so I let Michael call her. Unfortunately, she didn't pick up, despite Michael calling her twice and leaving two very long messages for her to call him back. In his message he did mention that we would all be at the disco party tonight but I wasn't sure how well Holly would react knowing that she had already turned Michael down once that day.

We then decided to move down the list. Michael, as it would turn out, had a knack for talking with the board members. Apparently, having worked so long with Jan and Jan having been able to schmooze the board herself, Michael had picked up little tricks and tips on how to individually approach each of the board members. The more Michael was able to work his magic, the more I understood not only why Michael had been kept around for so long but why Jan had as well.

The next board member we went to visit was Todd Packer, a man whom I had know for a long time but tried to avoid as much as possible due to his rude behavior and his sexist remarks towards woman. When he first was elected, back when I was first married, he told me that I should have children right away because he thought I would make a great MILF someday. Ever since then, whenever he came to the museum, I pretended as if I had work that needed to be done.

Michael, however, liked the guy and we used that to our advantage. Todd Packer was an easy sell. "It's like this," Michael said to him as we settled in for a drink at one of the local bars. I had a feeling that Packer had been in that particular bar most of the day. "If Charles Minor stays, we are losing the lifestyle that we've grown accustomed to living."

"What lifestyle?" Packer teased before gulping down more beer. "You have neither a life or style."

"This guy's good." Michael laughed along with him. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, but besides that. You let Charles Minor become director, no crazy parties any more. He wants to take those away."

"No!" Packer slurred. He was obviously drunk, even if it was just after five.

"Yes," Michael insisted. "He doesn't even want us to have our fifteenth anniversary party."

"He can't take away our anniversary party," Packer argued, upset at that fact, though I figured it was mostly the alcohol talking. He pounded his fist on the table. "The man must go!"

"The man must go," Michael held his glass of ice water high.

Ten minutes later, Todd Packer agreed to do what he could to get rid of Charles Minor. Unfortunately, he was little help to us because eleven minutes later he was passed out on the floor. At least we got the vote against Charles.

I was a little concerned when Michael insisted that the next member be Billy Merchant. Billy was in a wheelchair and I had never known Michael to act professionally on any occasion that involved someone who had any kind of disability but to my surprise, Michael pulled it off, not once mentioning the fact that Billy couldn't walk. Instead, Michael focused on the fact that Charles was set on stereotyping people and refused to listen to what other people had to say. Billy hadn't seen a problem with David's appointment of Charles in the first place but after listening to what Michael had to say, he let us know that he would take our side if it came down to it.

"Wow, that was really impressive," I said as we were leaving Billy's house.

"What?" Michael asked, wide-eyed and grinning. He knew what I was thinking, he just wanted me to say it.

"I'm just amazed how you handled yourself in there," I told him.

"He's a human being too, you know," Michael reminded me. "God, is that all you see, his wheelchair?"

"No, not at all," I said rolling my eyes. "I mean I'm impressed that you were able to see past that."

"Well, I have a secret about that," he admitted as we were getting in the car.

"What's that?" I asked.

He looked around to make sure no one was watching then made Ryan and I promise to tell no one. "Jan kept secret files," he said finally. "I have files back at the museum on all of the board members. Listed in there are color-coded items what to mention and what not to mention when dealing with the board members. Jan made me memorize it."

"Wow," I said, so much was clicking into place. "Well, I guess she knew what she was doing."

"Yeah, and she told me that if I didn't follow it, she wouldn't have sex with me anymore," Michael continued. "And I really wanted to have sex with her. Especially after the boob job."

"And now we're back to normal," I said thinking that there was always a catch.

"Alright, who should we go after next?" Michael asked once we were all inside the car. "There's Mr. Scofield, the oldest member of the board, who hates change so he'll definitely be opposed to Charles or we could go with Dan Gordon who's kind of a moron and will follow anyone with the highest bidder. Of course, if we can get a hold of Holly-" Michael stopped mid-sentence when his phone rang.

I could hear David Wallace's sketchy, angered voice over the line. "Michael, are you calling board members and harassing them about Charles?" he asked.

"No, David," Michael said timidly. "But Charles has got to be stopped."

As David went into some sort of rant, my phone rang. I answered when I saw that it was Jim and he began talking the instant I answered. "Pam, I'm not sure where you guys are but get over to the Natural History Museum. I've uncovered something amazing."

"So, what did David say?" I asked as Michael headed towards the Natural History Museum.

"He was not at all happy," Michael replied. "Apparently, he thinks that Charles is wonderful. So, I told him to gather the board and meet us back at the festival in an hour."

"Michael!" I exclaimed. "We don't even know what Jim's found yet. Don't you think that was a little premature?"

Ryan spoke up. "Hey, if I'm going down, I'm going down big."

Michael pointed at him. "Exactly. You're in this now, Pamcakes, you better get used to it."

* * *

Ten minutes later, we were heading up to the museum. It looked like it was closed for the day, but Jim stood at the entrance waiting for us, a huge grin on his face.

"Are we going in?" I asked when we came up the steps to meet Jim.

"Can't," Jim replied. "Closed for the day. Actually, we're meeting someone here."

I eyed him suspiciously. "What are you up to?"

Jim rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Well, Michael gave me an idea," he answered, nodding at a proud looking Michael. "I mean, who else knows everything that goes on in the museum? The director's assistant, which is who I called."

As if on cue, a tiny, older gentleman with glasses approached us. "I'm, uh, looking for Jim Halpert."

Jim stepped forward. "That would be me. Vikram, right?" he asked, helping the older gentleman up the stairs.

"That's me," Vikram replied. "You're the reporter who spoke to me on the phone, right?"

Jim nodded. "That's right. Can you retell the story that you told me?"

We all listened intently as Vikram began to speak. "Mr. Halpert tells me you want to get rid of Charles just like we did. We are glad to be rid of him, but I do not wish him on anyone, so I will tell you what I know. Charles's background is in retail, not art and he's worked his way up to executive but has never stayed at one company for very long. It seems as though as soon as he reaches the highest position he can get, he takes off."

"Alright," I said nodding. "But that doesn't help us much."

"Ah, but this is just the beginning," Vikram continued. "So, he comes to this fine establishment here," he pointed to the museum behind him. "Why? I suspect because the economy is doing badly right now and there is more money that he could earn at a stable, government funded museum then in business. I'm not entirely sure why he chose the Natural History Museum specifically but I doubt his intentions of helping our museum out were far from wanting to be helpful."

"Alright, enough talk," Michael whined. "What's the point?"

"The Natural History Museum is going broke and it is all because of Charles Minor." Vikram said plainly.

"What?" I asked slightly in disbelief.

Vikram looked relieved that someone was on his side. "The first thing Charles did when he got there was cut staff. This was to save money, but the museum doesn't run so well being understaffed and because of that, the museum has lost more money trying to make up for all the mistakes made then it would have spent paying for a full staff. And the director of the museum got a pay raise due to a smaller staff. The rest of the staff took a pay cut."

"Oh, my god," I said, a hand to my mouth.

"There's more," Vikram continued. "Did you know that there haven't been any new exhibits in over a year? You see, a lot of the major exhibits don't change, but the ones that do usually have a local flavor to them, you know, the history of Scranton and stuff. But Charles refuses to support any kind of local interest; therefore, they've put a stop to any local based exhibits. A lot of people in the community have been offended by this and refuse to support the museum, meaning that attendance has been down. On top of all that, the one million dollars he raised? Only ten percent of that was used for the museum. The rest of it was to give him and the board members a bonus. I did the math and that comes out to about ninety thousand dollars each, which is a high amount for a small town museum board and director. Also, the ten percent used was not used to fix things, such as keeping the museum sterile so that the fossils and other artifacts could be preserved longer, it was mostly used for outside aesthetics."

"Oh, my god," I said. We all stared at him, shocked looks on our faces.

"And that is why we pushed him to you guys," Vikram concluded. "It was a conscious effort by the museum staff to get him out of there so that we can restore the museum to what it once was. It's been such a cherished little museum and it's a shame what that man has done to us. I hope that he does not do the same thing to you. I was unable to talk before because Charles threatened to send me back to India if I ever spoke out."

I was astonished by Vikram's story. I could see the love he had for his own museum and how much he hated working for Charles but did so somewhat in fear. "It's alright, Vikram. Hopefully, we'll be able to take him down. Thank you so much for talking with us."

We all thanked Vikram and Jim assured him that any information gathered from him would be strictly confidential. We then concluded we had to get back to the festival to share the information with David Wallace. The reason Vikram was alright with sharing his story was so that we could hopefully run Charles out of Scranton all together. I could tell that only after a few days of him not being there, the Natural History Museum was slowly getting itself back together.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Michael asked as we headed back the car. "That time Jan got a bonus for-"

"Stop," Jim said quickly. "I don't need to know."

Michael gave him a strange look. "What? It wasn't anything bad, just Jan cut the budget on-"

"Michael, stop incriminating yourself," I said giving a smile up to Jim.

Michael still didn't get it but thankfully we arrived at the parking lot. I ended up riding with Jim, leaving Michael to tell all of his stories to a bored Ryan. Not too later, we arrived back at the park, a very angry looking David Wallace waiting for us.

"You guys quit?" David started yelling the moment we walked up. "I expect that when you have a problem, that you come to me. But you can't just quit like that." He turned to me and gave me a frown. "You know, Pam, I'm disappointed in you. Michael and maybe Ryan I could expect this from-"

"I'm insulted by that," Ryan interjected.

David ignored him. "But, Pam, you've been such a strong worker. We would hate to lose you over a tiny dispute."

Just then, Charles walked up. "Oh, I see it's our disgruntled ex-employees."

"Now, Charles," David said reasonably. "I don't want to call them former employees unless they have good reason to be called that."

"Oh, David, come on," Charles said. "They're being insubordinate and disrespectful. We can find a much better PR person. And I think I could go without having Michael as an assistant." Charles threw his head back and laughed as if none of this was a big deal to him.

"Hey Charles," Jim piped up. "Next time you want to throw a reporter out of one of your meetings, make sure you don't have anything to hide. We just talked to your old assistant and found out a few interesting things." Jim took a tape recorder out of his pocket. I didn't think he had recorded the conversation with Vikram, and his wink to me showed that he didn't, but Charles's face fell as he saw the tape recorder. We knew we had him. "I think I'll let you guys handle museum politics on your own," he said giving me the tape recorder and bowing out of the conversation.

I grinned when I saw that there wasn't even a tape inside. "You see Charles, we would like our jobs back," I started.

Charles rolled his eyes. "I am not afraid of anything that you might have on that tape."

"Well," I said tilting my head. "Maybe you should be. See, here's the thing, Michael, Ryan and I love our museum. Sure, there are little things that need to be changed and maybe Jan leaving was over do but we do run it quite smoothly. And I think David wants the best for the museum as well."

David looked at me confused. "Pam, I'm not following you here."

"What I'm trying to say is that Charles is not good for the museum," I told him. "He's only met us one day and doesn't have faith in any of us. He wants to change something that isn't really broken, just messed up a little. And he wants to make a little money off of our hardship."

"Oh, come on," Charles protested.

"I don't want what happened to the Natural History Museum happening to us," I explained. And before Charles could start talking back, I began recounting the information I had just learned. The longer I went on, the more Charles's jaw dropped. "See, David, do we really want to take the same risk and lose more like the NHM?"

Charles was about to defend himself when David spoke. "You know Charles, I think we're done."

"But David," Charles gaped.

David rubbed his forehead in frustration. "No, this whole week has been one headache after another. Look, Charles, you seem like a good guy, but I'm not ready to upset the whole apple cart for you. Thank you for trying to step in and help but I think we are going to go in another direction."

Charles stared at me cruelly for a moment before finally accepting what was happening. Then he just walked away. Out of the park and out of our lives.

"All right, you three," David said to us. He didn't look happy but he did seem a little relieved. "I'll tell you what, you guys can have your jobs back without a problem. I mean no paper work was done, so it's as if you've never left. And I will, myself, do a better job of picking a new director. But next time, you guys come directly to me, alright? And do not run off and quit!" We all nodded. "Alright," David said relaxing. "I think we can now concentrate on getting this disco party started. I'll see you guys in a little bit after I've talked with the other board members."

The minute David left, the three of us begun to congratulate each other with high fives. We had done it, really done it. I felt good, my job was secure and I trusted David would do a better job with the next person he chose as director. But if nothing else, it felt nice to win one that day. And as Michael, Ryan and I gave hugs and patted each other on the back, I saw Jim in the distance, looking proudly at us.


	29. Oh, What A Night

**AN: **This is the last chapter of day five. RL is going to be crazy for a while, so I'm putting this story on hiatus until January. Thanks so much for reading! Please feel free to review, good, bad, ugly, always love hearing from you guys. Enjoy!

* * *

Michael, Phyllis, Oscar, Angela, Kelly, Ryan and I stood in a circle near the pavilion where the disco party was about to start. I had gathered everyone around to let the know what really went down between us and Charles and to tell them that despite losing a director, twice, we were going to let this party be the best that it could.

"Wow, I can't believe you took him on," Oscar said impressed. "I mean, that guy was a piece of work. I think I might have been next to quit if I had to endure much more of him."

"Well, thankfully, we don't have to anymore," I assured him. "I guess everything is back to normal now. Or, well, normal as things ever get around here."

"Well, I think it's a shame that he left," Angela commented. "I have never known this museum staff to be so…disciplined," she played with the cross around her neck. "But, whatever Pam, I suppose this museum always catered to your wants anyway."

"What?" I asked not sure what she was getting at.

Oscar touched my arm lightly. "Just ignore her."

"It's a shame that there are no more hot guys that work at the museum," Kelly said.

"Hey, what about me?" Ryan said, looking rather offended. "I quit my job so that I could get rid of Charles to show you that I was the better man and this is how you repay me?"

Kelly clung to his arm. "Oh, come on Ryan, you know I'll totally love you more than anyone else as long as I'll live."

Ryan looked sick.

Michael looked almost offended that he hadn't been addressed. "You know, Pam isn't the only one who helped out. I did too."

"Good job, Michael," Oscar complimented.

"Yeah, good job," Kelly agreed.

Michael smiled proudly.

"Hey, Pam," Phyllis started. "Do you think there's enough time to go home and change? It is Friday after all."

"Of course, Phyllis," I said. "Everyone be back in about a half hour, and then we'll get this thing started." The meeting was adjourned and everyone broke off into different directions.

I went to where Jim was waiting for me, sitting at one of the chess tables, playing a casual game of chess with the homeless guy who lived in the park.

"Hey," I said, watching Jim move his rook forward a few spots. "I think I'm done for the evening, with the exception of getting the disco party started."

Jim looked up and grinned before pulling me on to his lap. "Are you telling me you'd like to skip out on tonight's festivities?"

I let out a laugh. "Well, unless you want to stay."

"I want whatever you want," he said pulling my chin down for a kiss.

"Hey, Jimmy boy, you're move," the homeless man snarled.

Jim looked up at me with a grin. "You remember Creed, right?"

I nodded. The last time I had seen Creed, a few days before, he had been completely in the nude. "Some people you can never forget."

Jim laughed as he turned his attention back to the chessboard and without giving it too much thought captured a pawn with his bishop.

"Thank you," I said, caressing his cheek. "For everything, for helping get rid of Charles, for being so patient with my parents, for dealing with me even though this day has been, just, a nightmare."

"You know that's what boyfriends are for, right?" he asked with a smirk.

I nodded before leaning down to kiss him again. This kiss lingered, quickly growing in intensity as we sunk into it.

"You're move, kid," I heard Creed say but I was too busy focusing on Jim's tongue in my mouth. It wasn't until we heard Creed omit an eerie, evil laugh that we broke apart.

I blushed, feeling embarrassed that we had just made out in front of Creed, but I think Creed was too busy looking at the chessboard to even have noticed. Jim took only a quick look at the board before moving a pawn forward then looked back at me as if he wanted to resume where we left off. But before we could do anything, Creed began speaking again.

"So, Jimmy," Creed started, his eyes remaining fixed on the board. "There's this guy down at my soup kitchen, pours me some great pea soup on Wednesdays. He's about your age. I think I should set you guys up."

"Um…what?" Jim asked astounded. I let out a laugh.

Creed continued to babble. "He's got blue hair. I hope that's okay. And a tongue ring. You know what they say about guys with tongue rings."

Jim's jaw dropped a little. "I have a girlfriend. And I am not gay."

"Oh," Creed said with a shrug. "I thought you were."

"Um, nope."

"Didn't you used to be Hispanic?" Creed asked.

"Yes, in my previous life," Jim replied sarcastically. "But in this one I've stayed mostly white."

"Damn, the drugs are wearing off again," Creed said as he moved a pawn forward. "And that's checkmate." Creed finally looked up. "Oh, hey Ms. Beesly, when did you get here?"

Jim and I looked at each other before we burst out laughing.

* * *

Jim and I approached the pavilion hand in hand. The disco party had started, Michael's disco ball hanging from the ceiling of the pavilion, twirling brightly as the music started to play. After everything that happened that day, I couldn't believe the turnout we were having. I squeezed Jim's hand excitedly.

"So, what would you like to do?" he asked as we came to the edge of the cement flooring. "Stay or go?"

"I think we can stay for a couple of songs," I said watching how much fun everyone was having. Jim looked at me lovingly and I got the sense that whatever my decision, he'd be happy to follow. "But the night's still young," I added sweetly. "Plenty of time for us to have alone time."

"I'd definitely like some alone time," Jim whispered into my ear before giving me a gentle kiss on the cheek.

I blushed slightly and contemplated on leaving right then but I knew that I had to make my rounds. I pulled Jim into the crowd and onto the dance floor, the two of us laughing as we became surrounded by the community dancing away to disco music.

"Hey, isn't that your photographer?" I asked, pointing to the front of the stage where the DJ booth was set up.

"Darryl, yeah," he replied. "And I think he's hanging with the drummer from that band a couple of nights ago. What were they called? Scrantonicity?"

I laughed. "Yeah, Kevin I think. Thank god they aren't actually playing."

"It's not like they couldn't have played tonight," Jim joked. "I mean they were fluent with their Police repertoire."

I've always been self-conscious about my dancing, but the fact that Jim was just as dorky of a dancer made me feel less so.

After one song, Jim stopped dancing, his eyes fixated on something behind me. "What is it?" I asked.

"Uh, I need to take care of something," he responded. I turned around to see that he was looking at Karen and her new boyfriend. Unsure of what Jim felt he needed to take care of, I followed him to greet Karen.

Karen seemed a little shocked that Jim had come to her and even more so when he asked to talk to her privately. Jim took her out to the edge of the pavilion, leaving me to stand alone with Karen's boyfriend.

"So," I started trying to negate the awkwardness. "Dan, right?"

He nodded, though he was clearly watching Karen and Jim. "Yeah…"

"I'm Pam," I said. "So, Karen tells me you guys met at a bar." Dan made no response. "And that you're a dermatologist," I continued.

He nodded and finally turned his attention towards me. "Yeah, wait, how do you know Karen?"

"Oh, I-" I'm dating your girlfriend's ex-boyfriend, I thought. "Oh, just a friend," I muttered as I realized sometimes it's better to say nothing at all.

We both watched as Jim talked with Karen. Karen was nodding her head with little expression on her face. Jim's back was turned to me, so I couldn't tell what he was saying. Finally, they gave each other a hug and when returned to us, they were both smiling.

Karen went back to Dan and Jim took my hand, leading me off the pavilion and next to one of the pillars.

"What was that all about?" I asked.

Jim grinned and bent down to pick one of the dandelions that grew next to the pillar. He gently put it in my hair, tucking it next to my ear. "You look beautiful," he said.

"Thank you," I replied.

Jim let out a heavy breath. "I needed to apologize to Karen," he admitted. He grabbed on to my hands. "Because in order to move forward with you and believe me I want to, I needed to be done with some of that baggage, you know?"

I nodded, my hands trembling in his a little at the thought of what his definition of moving forward was.

"Oh, Jim," I pulled him in for a kiss.

When we pulled a part, I tugged at his hand, signifying that we may be done with the festival for the night. But before we could go anywhere, we were stopped Oscar approached us, another man at his side..

"Hey, Pam," he said, absolutely giddy.

"Hey, Oscar," I replied. "Who's this?"

"This is Matt," Oscar said, positively glowing. Matt gave us a friendly wave. "He works for one of the galleries downtown, the one we just got the new exhibit from. We met a few days ago and, yeah, just hit it off. Right?"

"Yeah," Matt agreed looking just as glowing. "Nice to meet you guys."

I was happy for Oscar as the two of them made their way onto the dance floor. Oscar didn't seem like he had many good things go his way, so it was nice to see him with good company and enjoying himself.

"Oh, my god," Jim said suddenly. He was staring out into the crowd, but at what I couldn't tell. "It's Stanley."

"Who's Stanley?" I asked. He pointed to a middle-aged black man dancing in the middle of the crowd.

"That would be Stanley, one of our reporters," Jim explained. "But that is not his wife," he said referring to the lady with wild hair.

"Wow, that's crazy," I replied.

"Yeah, crazy night," he repeated.

Just as we were headed out again I noticed three men coming down the path. One was an odd looking man with glasses; the other was a strange looking man with a distinct chin beard, the third I recognized immediately as Jim's coworker Dwight. Jim's jaw dropped a little.

"Dwight, what the hell are you doing here?" he asked as the men approached us. "You're supposed to be in Canada."

Dwight gave Jim a disgusted look. "The game got rained out, dumb ass," he snarled. "So, Josh said I didn't have to go."

"That still doesn't explain what you're doing here," Jim said, clearly annoyed by Dwight's presence.

"What?" Dwight said mockingly. "Can't I just come and enjoy an art festival with my best friend Rolf and my cousin Mose?"

"I'm cousin Mose," Mose said abruptly.

"Mose, quiet," Dwight snapped. "I let you out one night a year, if you talk again we will not go paintballing."

"But-" Mose started.

"I said quiet!"

As Dwight yelled at a whimpering Mose, Angela came up, red faced and angry. "Pam? Who picked this music? It's the music of the devil. Why am I forced to stay and listen to it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, come on Angela. Can't you get over it for one night?"

I was prepared for a snarky remark from Angela but instead she had caught Dwight's eye and the two of them were intensely staring at each other. "Oh, Dwight," Angela cooed.

"Hello, Angela," Dwight said, picking up her hand to kiss it. "So lovely to see you again."

"And you," Angela replied politely. "I expected you earlier today but was disappointed that you didn't show up."

"I wanted to be here," Dwight said. "But I was caught up at work."

"Well, you're here now," a smile twitched at Angela's lips.

"Would you like to join us for paintball this evening?" Dwight asked.

"I've never paintballed," Angela replied.

"Well, I can teach you," Dwight said with a twisted grin. "I'll let you have my gun."

Angela looked more excited than I had thought she would. "I would very much like to hold your gun."

"Oh, god," I shuddered. Jim looked as though he were going to be ill. "Let's just be glad Andy isn't still here and we don't have to be a part of a duel," I told him.

Jim scanned the crowd. "Actually, Andy is here, but I don't believe we have to worry much about him."

A circle had formed on the dance floor around Andy, who was now break dancing. Jim and I watched for a minute or so, both amused at what we were seeing. As soon as Andy's solo had finished, Kelly came into the circle, looking competitive, and began to dance sensually with a chair. Andy, taking it as a challenge, jumped in again and began to break dance around her. Ryan, who was standing just to the side, egged them both on and after about a minute, Kelly pulled him into the circle, where she began to dance around him like a stripper would around a pole. The crowd clapped to the beat, encouraging all three of them to dance even more.

I couldn't stop myself from laughing at the ridiculous sight. "This is so cheesy," I commented.

"It is very cheesy," he commented, placing an arm around my shoulders. "But you know, cheesy isn't so bad."

I wrapped my arms around his waist. "No, not bad at all."

"So, you going to go out there and join them?" He nodded towards the circle.

"No."

"Come on, Pam, it'd be fun."

"For you, maybe."

Jim chuckled.

The next person in the circle, surprisingly, was Phyllis. She seemed to be having a lot of fun as she stood in one spot, swinging her arms up and down and bopping her head. She must have swung too hard at one point because she let out a yelp and then began crying about her back. Jim and I jumped in to help her off the pavilion and took her over to the bar so she could get some ice on her back while we waited for Bob Vance to return from the bathroom.

"It's an old back injury," Phyllis explained as she leaned against the chair, trapping the icepack between her and the back of the chair. "Bob will just give me a massage when we get home and all should be fine."

I leaned against the bar as we waited, facing Jim, who was trying to help Phyllis adjust her ice pack. Behind me two men, who were obviously drunk, were talking with the redheaded bartender named Meredith.

"Come on honey, just give us one more drink," the tall one, with slicked back black hair cooed. "We ain't that drunk."

Meredith looked unfazed by them. "Technically, ten is my limit. But if you've got something you can give me, I'd be willing to bargain with you."

The short one with a goatee took this as an opportunity. "That depends on what you have to offer."

"Okay," Meredith said with a shrug, and without another thought, she lifted her shirt to flash the two guys. They stared at her in awe for a moment.

"Ew," I cried. Jim gave me a wide-eyed stare as Meredith continued to leave her shirt up for the guys to examine her.

"Fine," Meredith finally said, thankfully becoming clothed again. "You don't like what you see, then no more drinks."

The two guys began to argue with each other, each one goading the other to take Meredith so they could get another drink. Pretty quickly, they began to shove each other, each taking a turn stating 'you do it'. After a minute, the guy with the goatee shoved the tall guy into my back, causing me to stumble forward into Jim. Jim instantly tried to help me balance myself, though his hand landed squarely, and unexpectedly, on my breast. Before he realized what he was doing, he pushed on it so I could straighten up.

"Dude, check this out," the tall guy said to his friend. "This guy's getting to second base over here."

"No way," the guy with the goatee said, peering around to get a look.

Jim immediately dropped his hands, looking embarrassed. "Are you okay?" he asked me.

"Yeah, I'm good," I replied. I wasn't embarrassed that Jim had accidentally grabbed my breast and if we weren't in public I would have encouraged him to do it again. I think it was a sign that it might have been time for us to go but just then Michael came running up.

"Pam, Pam, I don't think she's coming," Michael was overly upset.

"Who, Michael?" I asked, not really following his cries.

"Holly," he whined. "Holly said she'd come and—"

"Michael, we talked about this," I said a little tired of babysitting Michael for one day. "Holly said she needed her space."

"Yes, but she said she'd come," Michael continued. But before he could continue, I noticed a group of board members, David Wallace leading them, coming down the path. And following them, just a few steps behind was Holly. The minute she spotted Michael her whole face lit up. "She came," Michael said, tears in his eyes.

"Go to her," I said, nudging him forward. Seeing Michael look so happy warmed my heart.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice squeaking. I nodded. "Okay, I'm going to do it. I'm going to talk to her."

I watched as he approached her and unlike the last time I saw the two of them interact, they both looked happy and were soon laughing with each other. I smiled, watching the scene fondly.

"I think it's time for us to go," Jim whispered in my ear.

My attention was now back on Jim. Solely on Jim. I was ready to leave this party behind and willingly to let him take my hand and guide me out into the darkness towards the parking lot. The lights and the laughter were becoming faint and I was grateful that it was the end of the day, no longer about parties or parents or festivals or work. It was now just about the two of us. And I was ready to follow Jim to wherever he wanted to take me.

* * *

For the first time that night, the sky was clear, the stars twinkled, and the moon glowed above us. My day might have been crappy but I didn't think I could have asked for a more perfect night. Jim was taking me back to his place. He didn't ask but he didn't have to. Truth was, it didn't matter where we ended up as long as we were together.

The car ride was quiet but unhurried. I watched Jim as he drove, his face contemplative, his eyes fixated on the road. For a moment, I wondered what he was thinking about but I didn't ask, lost in my own thoughts. I couldn't believe how lucky I felt to have found such an amazing man. And for the first time since we had met, I felt secure in his being there. If you had asked me about it this morning, I would have told you it felt surreal, that any moment I would wake up and be in the same boring life I had always been. But tonight, it felt real. Very real.

The conversation with Karen echoed in my mind. My relationship with Roy may have made me jaded for a long time but anything having to do with Roy felt so distant now, faded. The failure of my parent's marriage was still raw but that was my parents and I wasn't them. I was me. And Karen was right, I shouldn't set this relationship up to fail, I should set it up to succeed. As I watched Jim, I couldn't help but feel that this was it. This is where I was supposed to be and this was the man I was supposed to be with.

I reached out to grab Jim's hand. He squeezed it, then turned his head giving me a big, goofy grin. I laughed, comforted in the fact that my hand was securely in his and that I knew he was fully with me in this.

To be honest, I was still scared about my future. The amount of changes that had happened in the past few days, even the past twenty-four hours, was overwhelming. But I felt more confident known that someone was cheering for me, ready to catch me if I fell. If I did go to New York, everything would be fine and if I really did quit my job and had to find another one, everything would be fine. I could become an utter failure and Jim would look past that. The thought that he had my back, no matter what, was incredibly encouraging. It eased my nerves, feeling that I could really trust him. And I hoped that I could give back to him what he had given to me those past few days.

We finally arrived at Jim's house and briefly wondered if I should have asked him to swing by my place first, knowing that there was the possibility that I wouldn't be going home that night. But I chided myself at being presumptuous and decided to let the night take me where it wanted to. Jim led me up the path, my hand in his. On the porch, Jim bent down to give me a sweet kiss before searching for his keys to unlock the door. Once inside, a strange sense of familiarity swept over me, as if I knew that this house would one day be a home. As I set my purse down and slipped off my shoes, I knew that I would not be returning to my apartment that night.

Once settled in, Jim and I sat in his kitchen, listening to a light rock CD that played on the stereo in his living room, and splitting the last of the Tiramisu that he had bought a few days earlier. We chatted about life, swapping funny stories from our past. Jim was able to crack me up on more than one occasion with just his impressions alone. We stayed away from the heavy subjects, the future, work, parents, exes… Tonight wasn't about the loaded questions or introspective conversation. It was about living in the moment, about enjoying each other's company, about putting the troubles of the world aside for one night, so that we could just be us. And the more we laughed and talked with each other, the more relaxed I felt, all the issues I had dealt with in that one day seeming far away.

When dessert was finished, Jim took my plate from me, placing both empty plates in the sink. Then, smoothly, he took my hand and led me out into the living room to where the music was playing. Time for talk was over as the atmosphere switched to something else, something more intimate, something that words were not needed for.

We swayed to the soft beat of the music, Jim's hand lightly on my hip, my hand resting on his shoulder. Our free hands entwined, my palm was sweaty but I noticed his was as well. As the music continued, I placed my head on his chest, taking in his sweet scent, listening to the beat of his heart. Soon, he wrapped his arm around my waist and placed his head against mine. I felt the warmth of his body spread over me and I felt safe, comfortable, cared for. Loved. I nuzzled against him, letting my body flow with his, completely in tune with the rhythm of the music. There was nothing in the universe but the two of us, connected in the tiny bubble we had created for each other.

The CD stopped and we both stood there for a moment, clinging to each other, as if each of us were afraid to let the other go. Jim finally relaxed his grip but in doing so, brought one hand up to my chin and pulled me in for a kiss. It was a little awkward at first, my nerves getting the best of me, my heart racing as I realized that this kiss was leading somewhere. I could tell that he was nervous, too, his shaky hands running through my hair. I pulled back for a moment, gazing deeply into his eyes, to let him know that it was alright, that even though I was as unsure as he was, this was what I wanted. We began to kiss again, the more we sunk into the kiss, the more the fear melted away. Jim took my hand and never breaking apart, he began to lead me down the hall and slowly up the stairs. He was still hesitant, ready for me to reject his advances, but I pushed on, assuring him that I knew where this was headed and I was alright with that.

We reached the doorway of his bedroom, pausing only a moment to catch our breath. I looked up at him then and saw the desire in his eyes; the unquenchable, passionate lust that I knew was in me as well. But beyond that, I saw love. Pure, sweet, tender love. Love that I had never felt before. Love so overpowering that all I wanted to do was share it with him, let him know how strongly I felt. I wrapped my arms around his neck again, pulling him in for another deep, sensual kiss. I held on to him tightly, pressing myself against him, showing him how much I loved him with every fiber in my body. He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me harder, letting me know that he knew how I felt and that he felt the same way. I melted into him like snow on warm grass and yet I still didn't feel close enough. His strong arms picked me up and my legs curled around him. He took me inside the bedroom and with one quick flick of his foot, closed the door.


	30. Angel of the Morning

Day Six (Jim's Pov)

I woke up to sunlight streaming in through the window, the storm of yesterday finally passing. It took me a second to register that she was in my bed, curled up against me. A dizzying feeling of happiness washed over me as I recounted just what had happened last night. And there she was, still in my bed, still with me.

I shifted carefully, so not to wake her and leaned over, watching her sleep soundly, peacefully; admiring how the light of the early morning streamed in through the window, illuminating her, creating a wonderful glow. She was so beautiful that I could hardly believe my luck to have her lying there next to me. I traced my fingers up her bare arm to her shoulder and down again, reveling in the feel of her soft skin.

Man, I loved this girl.

Some of her gorgeous curls had fallen over her cheek so I gently tucked them behind her ear and continued to trace my finger along her jawbone up to her chin. Unexpectedly, she jolted awake and began screaming.

"Get it off me, get it off me," she panicked, thrashing about, trying to brush whatever she thought was crawling on her off. As she sat up, the sheet fell, revealing her perfect breasts.

I think I loved her even more. "Good morning," I said trying hard not to laugh too much.

"Is it still on the bed," she cried, looking frantically around her.

"Nothing on this bed but you and me," I assured her.

"Oh," she said, relaxing a little. Then, whether it was from feeling embarrassed about how she woke up or realizing that she was sitting there half naked I wasn't sure, but Pam blushed, pulling the sheet back up to cover her. "I thought a bug or something was crawling on me," she said sheepishly.

I grinned at her. "Nope, that was just me."

She let out a laugh and curled up again, snuggling close. "Hi," she said brightly, her green eyes giving me an adoring look.

"Hey," I replied, not hesitating to lean down and give her a deep kiss. "Did you sleep alright?" I asked, brushing a few strands of hair off her forehead.

"Yeah," she replied warmly.

Usually, there was an awkwardness the morning after my first time with a girl, if there was a morning after. Not with Pam, though. It felt comfortable. It felt right. I wanted to wake up this way for the rest of my life.

I began to kiss her again. "What time do you need to be a work?" I asked between kisses. As she stretched her head back to look at the clock, I began to work my way down her heck.

"I should probably be there now," she said breathlessly.

I paused. "So…"

Her thigh purposely brushed against me, finding me ready for her. She grinned. "I can be a little late today," she said pulling me close to kiss me.

God, I really loved this girl.

I ended up being almost an hour late for work. When I got in, I expected some sort of lecture from Dwight but he seemed to be too busy on his computer to notice me and I was too giddy to care. But the moment I settled in, he began to talk.

"I expect you had a most productive evening," he stated.

I assumed he was talking about work though I learned long ago, I shouldn't assume anything when it came to Dwight. "What are you talking about?" I asked. "I had the evening off."

He grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Well, based on that dopey grin you have on you face, I can assume you consummated your relationship with the PR girl from the museum."

"Oh my god," I said keeping my eyes fixed on my computer, which seemed to be taking its time to load. "Okay, let's not talk about this."

"You know," he said rolling his chair next to me. "You are not the only one who pleasured a woman last night."

"Stop," I insisted, trying very hard to ignore Dwight's stare.

Unfortunately, he continued. "Angela is a goddess among women and I made her bow down to me last night…"

"Does this really need to be discussed?" I asked as I frantically clicked the button to open my email

"Oh, please," Dwight scoffed. "I'll bet you didn't even make her orgasm last night. Do you even know how to make a woman orgasm, Jim?"

"Alright…" Having enough, I quickly stood up. "Time for coffee."

"…I'll have to ask Karen when I see her..." I heard him say as I left the room.

When I got to the break room, I noticed all of the interns gathered around one of the tables talking feverishly. Normally, I don't notice what the interns discuss but I thought I heard mention of the art festival.

"What's going on?" I asked the newest intern, Erin, who was also getting coffee at the moment.

"Oh, hey Mr. Halpert, you haven't heard?" She was genuinely surprised. "Oh, well, there's all this gossip going on about last night at the art festival."

"What gossip?" I asked mildly interested as I poured my coffee.

"Well, you see, Stanley was there and a few of us saw him without his wife," she explained in her overly perky voice. "And bunch of the other guys think he's having an affair with the woman. I said that I didn't believe it because Stanley is such a nice guy and why would anyone want to cheat on their wives? But they insist that Stanley kissed her. I did not see that so I can't say one way or the other. And I really don't like to gossip anyway but no one else has any other interesting subjects to talk about."

"Okay, then," I said sipping my coffee. "And that's pretty much it?" I asked hoping that my name was not involved in the gossip mill that day.

Erin fazed out for a moment, as if she had to think it over. "I don't think so. Oh, wait, I do have a message for you. Mr. Porter said that he needed you and I in his office as soon as you got in," she said grinning proudly.

"Did he say why?" I asked, my mind once again racing to the possibility of being fired, though I doubt he'd fire me in front of Erin.

"No," she answered. "But I'm excited. When your boss wants to see you that's usually good right?"

The girl's naivety was astounding. "Come on," I said. "Let's go see what Josh wants."

* * *

How many times that week had I ended up in Josh's office? I had lost count. At least when I entered he didn't look upset. He didn't look much anything but I took indifference as a good thing and sat in the chair across from him. Erin, still looking overly perky, took the seat next to him.

"Josh, look," I started. "I just want to say upfront that I'm sorry."

Josh looked confused. "Why?"

I was silent, no use digging a hole for myself. "Ah, nothing," I said, thinking I should just make a joke out of it. "Just how I normally tend to start conversations with you lately."

Thankfully, Josh laughed. "Actually, Jim, I wanted to commend you. You've picked up a little of that work ethic I felt was missing for a while."

"Thanks, Josh," I said with a smile. This day was off to a fantastic start.

"And that's why I wanted to talk to you," Josh continued. "Look, even after doing a complete turnabout, I can't take you off probation right away. But, I can hurry the process along a little. Here's the thing, I just got a call this morning and I have to go up to New York today, something about a fraud and, well, doesn't matter. What matters is that I'll be gone pretty much all day. So, I thought maybe I could leave you in charge. Now, there's not a whole lot going on today, so it should be an easy time. All you have to do is make sure everyone gets their assignments for the day and settle any day to day issues. Basically, just make sure everything runs smoothly. And, if it does, we can probably lift the probation early."

"Really?" I asked, a little stunned to hear Josh not only have confidence in me but that I might have a chance to be off probation as well. I grinned, feeling almost as giddy as I did when I woke up that morning. "I mean, wow, I didn't expect that. Yeah, I can definitely watch the place while you're gone."

"Good," Josh said with a smile on his face. "I was hoping to hear you say that."

"Oh, wow," Erin added, she was grinning wider than I was. "Mr. Halpert, that is an amazing opportunity. I am so happy for you. Congratulations."

I was excited myself but Erin was taking it to a whole new level. "Thanks, Erin," I said not quite sure how to react to her enthusiasm.

"There's one other thing I'd like you to do today," Josh said. "Erin, here, has been interning with us for a little over a week but she has yet to do anything more than get cups of coffee for people. I'd like her to stick with you today, show her around, let her see what it's like to be a reporter."

"Uh," I stammered. I wasn't sure how much I liked that idea but if it was going to get me off probation, I was going to do it. "Sure," I said. "I can do that."

Erin lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh, Mr. Porter, thank you so much. Mr. Halpert, I you will not let you down. I will be at your side all day and I can't wait to see what it's like to work with a real reporter on real stories. I mean, I have been here all week, but mostly people have ignored me, which is okay because I'm used to being ignored. And that's why I have so many stuffed animals because stuffed animals can't ignore you."

Josh shot me a grin as Erin rambled on. It was apparent he knew what he was giving me. I nodded at him, understanding fully. "Alright, let's tell the troops before I head out," Josh said standing up.

Erin and I followed him out into the hall. Erin continued to chatter as we walked. "So, Mr. Halpert, you're a sports reporter, does that mean we get to go to any games today?"

"Actually, I will probably be here all day," I corrected, trying to be as nice as possible. "Since Josh put me in charge, I can't really go anywhere."

"Oh, right, I should have figured that out," she said, whacking her own head with her hand.

"So, you want to be a reporter?" I asked her as we headed down the hallway towards the conference room where all the senior staff members were meeting.

She nodded excitedly. "I've always wanted to be a reporter," she said, though I somehow found that hard to believe. "I mean, look at all the great stories people get to do, rescuing kittens out of trees, siblings finding each other after not knowing each other for years, building new homes for people. There was this one story about a turtle who was bred in captivity and last year they let him go back to live in the ocean with his family." I believe she started to well up.

I had no words. Part of me wanted to know how she dealt with all the bad news in the world but I didn't get a chance to ask her because we had arrived at the conference room.

Everyone was there, sitting around the table; Stanley, Karen, Dwight, Hannah, Martin, and Tony all waiting for us to arrive. Once we entered the room, Dwight shot up.

"I think we have a lead on the Scranton Strangler," Dwight said before any of us could get a word out. "Now, if I could just get permission to take the story from Karen-"

"Dwight, you can't take the story from me," Karen said, rolling her eyes.

"I can and I will," Dwight said firmly. "Can't I Josh? Come on, Karen has nothing."

"Actually," Josh said rubbing his hands together. "I'm letting Jim decide this one."

"What?" Came several voices around the room. The only person who didn't react at all was Stanley, who was busy doing his crossword.

"That's right," Josh said. "I'm going to be gone today and Jim is in charge."

"You can't be serious," Dwight said. "Jim is a poor excuse for a reporter. All he does is copy numbers off the internet and put them on paper. You call that journalism? Pfft."

I grinned. "Thanks, Dwight, I never knew how much you cared."

"Alright, Jim," Josh said, handing me a sheet of paper with assignments on it. "Here you go and I should be back this evening in time to have a look over the final copy. Good luck!"

He waved his hand and exited the room, leaving me on my own with five confused coworkers and one very irate one.

* * *

They all stared at me, waiting for me to say something, anything. For the first time since I started working for the Times, I felt a little nervous being in front of my coworkers. "Okay, everyone, we are going to run this the same way as if Josh were here," I stated plainly. "I'm pretty much going to hand these out as if he was here doing it."

"I get the Scranton Strangler," Dwight demanded.

"No, you don't," I shot back. "Karen gets it."

"Why?" Dwight sneered. "Because you used to sleep with her?"

"Ew, Dwight," Karen said scrunching her nose. "I can't believe you would even suggest that."

"Well," Dwight responded with a smirk. "Based on Karen's response to that, I guess the answer to my earlier question would be no."

"Oh, god," I said pinching the bridge of my nose. I couldn't believe it taken only a few minutes for this to fall apart. "Dwight, Karen gets the assignment because Josh had her pick it up yesterday. And for no reason other than that, she gets it."

"Yeah, but could she take the Scranton Strangler out if she were crossed with him?" Dwight asked.

"How is that even relevant?" Karen asked.

"I could get him a choke hold if I needed to," Dwight said. "How ironic would that be? Hannah, stand up so I can show you how it's done." Dwight tried to demonstrate on Hannah but she swatted at him to go away.

"Okay," I said in a firm voice, attempting to regain control. "None of that is at all relevant, so moving on…"

"Um, Mr. Halpert, sorry to interrupt," Erin said, raising her hand to get my attention. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little anxious. What would you like me to do?"

My mind was drawing a blank. "Why don't you get us all coffee," I suggested.

"Right," she said taking a step toward the door. She stopped, suddenly, and turned back around. "Wait, sorry again, but didn't Mr. Porter want you to have me do something more than get coffee?"

I thought it over. "Um, sure, why don't you, uh, check to see if I have any voice messages."

Erin grinned, happy, I suppose, with any assignment other than getting coffee. "Right, Mr. Halpert, I will be right back with your phone messages," she said, scurrying out of the conference room.

"Okay," I said, skimming the list of assignments. "Martin, looks like I've got your normal world news line up for you. Hannah, there's a business start up story here for you. Oh, and this sounds interesting. They're opening up a new dump in Scranton. Dwight, I think you should take that one."

"This is so unfair," Dwight protested. Seeing Dwight become all hot and bothered by me being in charge added a little perk to the day. "I would like to lodge a formal complaint."

"Alright, you're allowed," I said with a grin. "But since I am your supervisor today, you'll have to give me the complaint."

Dwight became twisted with anger. "Fine, let it be known right here and now that I think you are a horrible journalist and a horrible human being and Josh should have never left you in charge when I would do a much better and more competent job."

"Wow." I had to have struck a nerve because he usually wasn't that passionate in his hatred for me. Somehow, that made the whole thing more amusing. "Duly noted. But you're keeping the dump story because, let's be honest, no one knows human waste quite like you do."

There was general snickering around the room.

"Wrong," Dwight shot back. "Now if you were referring to animal waste, then you would be correct. I happen to know…"

Dwight was cut off by Erin's return. "Hi, Mr. Halpert, sorry again."

"You don't have to apologize, Erin," I assured her.

"Right, sorry," Erin continued. "So, um, I did what you said and I checked your messages but I found that you did not have any." She smiled brightly, as if she had accomplished some big feat. "However, a girl…woman…person…arrived to see you and so I took her up to your office. I wasn't sure if you wanted me to bring her here because you guys are in a meeting so I thought your office would be the best place. I offered her some water but she said no, she would just like to talk with you when you have a moment."

"Um, Erin," I said. "Did you ask her who she was?"

Erin's face went blank. "Oh my…" she buried her face in her hands. "I knew I forgot something, I'm so sorry. Would you like me to go ask her her name? It will take, like, two seconds."

"No, I'll go see who it is," I said. I gave the list of assignments over to Karen. "Here, I'm sure you guys can figure this out amongst yourselves. I'll be back in a minute."

"Bias!" Dwight accused. "See, you gave it to Karen. I'm taking you down Jim. I'm taking you down."

"Dwight, shut-up

I smiled, deciding best just to ignore Dwight's idle threat and followed Erin out of the conference room.

"He seemed really upset," Erin observed as we walked down the hallway.

"He's always really upset," I said rolling my eyes.

"Well, aren't you worried?" It was obvious that she was very concerned.

"Nah," I said waving it off with my hand. "He'll be over it in a day or so."

I wasn't sure who could be waiting for me; I knew I didn't have any appointments. So, when I saw that it was Pam waiting for me in my office, leaning against my desk with a mad grin on her face, I was more than pleasantly surprised.

"I'm so sorry to keep you waiting ma'am," Erin said.

"Hey, Erin, I think we're good," I said. "Will you please go help Karen finish distributing the assignments?"

"Right away," Erin said. I closed the door as soon as she left.

"'Ma'am'," Pam said as soon as Erin had left. "Wow, I feel old."

"She's only an intern," I said with a smirk as I came towards her.

"She's cute," Pam responded playfully.

"Maybe you should be jealous," I teased.

"I'm not the jealous type." She grabbed onto my tie and pulled me down for a long kiss.

"So, what are you doing here?" I asked after we broke apart.

"Avoiding my job," she gave with a grin. "David asked me to work on fundraising. And I am all about doing fundraising and setting up benefits and auctions for the museum, especially since we need it right now. But he wants me to go to businesses door to door asking for donations. I feel a little uncomfortable doing it, like I'm begging for money or something."

"Well, that's understandable," I said.

"So," she continued. "I was at a gallery a block from here and figured since I was so close, I should stop by and see how you were doing."

"I'm not going to argue against that idea," I said.

"It's a nice office," she said though her eyes never left mine. There was a dark, lustful look there, one I recognized from last night. An image of her in my bed, under me, floated into my brain and my resolve was gone.

"It's just an office," I said before I kissed her again, our mouths meeting furiously. She kissed me back, frantically, as if she couldn't get enough of me. I began to run my hands through her soft hair, pulling her as close as I could. She ran her hands up and down my back before she began tugging at my shirt. I pushed up against her so she became pinned between me and the desk. When her hips began to grind against mine, it dawned on me the real possibility that I would just take her here in my office.

That was until the door opened. "Oh my god, Mr. Halpert!" a voice squealed. Pam and I jolted apart. "I'm so sorry," Erin said, one hand shielding her eyes. It was quite hilarious since both Pam and I were still fully clothed. "I so, so sorry, I just thought- I mean, the door was unlocked and-"

"What is it, Erin?" I asked.

"It's just, um," Erin looked more embarrassed than we were. "Ms. Filippelli had a few questions over some of the assignments and may have called you a few not nice names when you left. Mr. Nash and Mrs. Smoteridge-Barr are having a dispute over who gets to do one of the stories and it's getting rather loud. And Mr. Schrute has Mr. Gardener in a choke hold."

Pam and I exchanged looks before we burst out laughing. "See, I told you my job wasn't any saner than yours," I said.


End file.
